


All the paths that lead to your heart

by Kytanna



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambassador Bilbo, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Future Mpreg, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bilbo, Pining Bilbo, Pining Thorin, Political Alliances, Pre-Quest of Erebor, Pregnant Bilbo Baggins, Slow Burn, Stone Sense, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kytanna/pseuds/Kytanna
Summary: Having to travel all the way to Ered Luin was the last thing Bilbo wanted, he had no say in the matter, though. The safety of his people was at stake, and if he wanted them to survive winter, he had to make sure to get a good deal with the dwarves.He just hoped his complicated feelings for the King wouldn't get in the way...(ON A SHORT HIATUS)
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Balin & Dwalin, Bilbo Baggins & Dwarves, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 168
Kudos: 401





	1. PATH 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, it's been more than half a year of radio silence, writer block can be bitch, but I am back! This time with a multichaptered fic, so I'm excited! 
> 
> It's a WIP and I stimate I'll be around 16 chapters long. Updates should be every 10 days or two weeks at worst. I'll be updating the tags as I post the chapters since I don't want to give spoilers, just know that it will be explicit at some point due to smutty times and violence (stupid orcs), so please read the tags carefully in the future.

“What?” Asked Bilbo, staring in astonishment at his grandfather. 

“What you heard, my boy.” Said Gerontius, looking quite pleased with himself.

“You want me to go to a dwarven kingdom to help you sign a treaty with the dwarves?!” Bilbo might have shouted louder than he intended but it was hardly his fault, this was the last thing he expected after waking up to loud knocks on his door.

“Yes.” Replied Gerontius, calmly taking a sip of tea from his cup.

“B-But why?” Bilbo fussed around the kitchen, still in his robe. “Since when you have dealings with the dwarves? This is the first time I hear about it.”

Bilbo put scones and a varied sorting of cookies on the table and frowned slightly when his grandfather took all of Bilbo’s favourites. He now was reminded of the reason he rarely invited his grandfather to his smial.

“At the beginning of the year, Gandalf sent a letter, just after winter.” Began Gerontius.

“And?” Urged Bilbo, when he didn't continue and stopped to sip his tea.

“He didn’t deliver very good news,” Gerontius said, all the previous mirth gone. “He-" Gerontius cut himself off and let out a worried sigh. "He said next year we could expect a winter akin to the Long Winter...”

Bilbo gasped. No, it couldn't be...

The Long Winter was known to hobbits as the Days of Death. That winter brought a great famine and weather so cold it could turn you into ice in less than three hours. Bilbo himself hadn’t been born yet to witness it first hand, but everyone knew about it. 

The stories were enough to chill you to the bone and to think that they would experience such horror again made Bilbo’s stomach churn with worry.

“Gandalf told me we should seek the aid of the dwarves of Ered Luin, that we—as a plentiful land—could provide food for them, and they in exchange could help us prepare for winter and in case we’re attacked they could come to our aid.” Gerontius took out a handful of envelopes from inside his waistcoat. “As soon as I got Gandalf's letter I wrote to King Thorin, the current ruler of Ered Luin. He, and his sister—in particular—were much more amicable than I expected, and during the last four months, we have kept contact to discuss the treaty. It seems that the dwarves need us as much as we need them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped...” Bilbo gave his grandfather a betrayed look. It bothered him that his grandfather didn’t trust him with such matters. Bilbo would have done everything he could to help.

“I know that better than anyone, Bilbo, but I didn’t want to worry when there was very little to be done. But now your time to help has come and I can’t trust anyone else to carry this task.” Gerontius said as he took Bilbo’s hand across the table.

Bilbo swallowed thickly. This was too much information for him to process all at once. According to his grandfather not only they might get a harsh winter akin to the Long Winter, but now to prevent the disasters that such cold weather brought he had decided to sign a pact with the neighbouring Dwarves and he wanted Bilbo to be the one to go in his place to talk to the dwarves face to face.

Bilbo considered himself quite adventurous, perhaps not as much as in his childhood, but certainly more than any other hobbit that currently lived in Hobbiton. Still, that didn’t mean that the very idea of going to a dwarven kingdom, all on his own, didn’t scare him. He wanted to help, that much was true, but Bilbo wasn’t sure if he was the right one to carry such a dangerous task.

Perhaps someone else could go. Dodinas and Rorimac were Shirriffs, they were brave and strong—perhaps not as strong as a dwarf, but certainly stronger than Bilbo—besides the were also sons of the Master of Buckland, that carried enough importance to be able to go in the name of the Thain, right?

Yes, he would convince his grandfather to send those two and Bilbo would help with what needed to be done in the Shire.

Sure of himself, he raised his head and opened his mouth to tell his grandfather of his decision when something caught his eye on the far end of the wall.

It was his mother’s bow.

Bilbo closed his mouth, images of the Fell winter flooded his mind. His mother going out with that very bow to hunt down any wolf that dared to get anywhere near their smial. 

It had been thanks to her bravery and determination and not only Bilbo but many more hobbits survived that winter.

He remembered having asked her if she wasn’t afraid.

“ _ Of course I am! But fear can’t stop me from doing what’s right, and it shouldn’t stop you either. You have to believe in yourself, my sapling. _ ” Belladonna had told him. 

Bilbo had yet to meet a woman stronger than her mother. Growing up she had been his true hero, always dreaming of being as brave and going on adventures just like her when he was old enough. 

Now look at him, his past self would be ashamed. Not only he was running away at the opportunity to visit new places and live a fuller life but also was doing exactly what his mother had told he shouldn’t do. 

It was pitiful, truly... His people were in danger and despite having the opportunity to save them Bilbo was cowering in fear. His mother would be so disappointed… 

That did it. 

Before Bilbo realized he opened his mouth and said, “I’ll go.”

Gerontius clapped his hands together, shouting, “that’s my boy! Your mother would be so proud, your father not so much but he would have approved in the long run.” 

Bilbo laughed, that much was true. His father would have probably had a heart attack after hearing about Bilbo’s plans. His own heart was hammering wildly at the thought of going farther than Bree—be it from anxiety or elation— he wasn’t sure.

Gerontius got up, fixing his waistcoat and grabbing another scone for the way. “You will be leaving next week. I still have to finish talking about all this matter with the heads of the Twelve Great families and you need to be briefed about what has been discussed with the dwarves.” 

“When are you going to tell the rest of the hobbits about it?” Asked Bilbo, as he accompanied Gerontius to the door.

“A couple of days before your departure. I don’t want to alarm them until we have everything planned but they need to know soon or otherwise we might run out of time.”

“We need to start saving up food.” Concluded Bilbo, gravely.

“Exactly. Winter might start as early as  _ Winterfilth _ this year and we need to save as much food as we can.” Gerontius took out his pipe and put it in his mouth without lighting it. “Come for luncheon tomorrow, Bilbo. I’ll explain the finer details of your task then.”

Bilbo watched as his grandfather took the main road and headed off to the Great Smials.

* * *

  
  


The rest of Bilbo’s day passed in a haze, too busy thinking about what he would have to do once he departed for the Blue Mountains. 

There was much he didn’t know. How long would he stay there? Was he supposed to do all on his own? Would the dwarves come to pick him up or it was expected of him to go all on his own? 

What should he take with him? He had only ever gone on short trips, he didn’t know what to pack for long trips.

Bilbo needed answers but sadly that would have to wait until the next day.

The night passed much in the same way. Bilbo was barely able to sleep, the anxiousness and even excitement at the prospect of travelling that far from his home keeping him awake. Nevertheless, he woke up early, from his smial it took a couple of hours of walking before reaching Tuckborough, and he didn't want to be late.

“Yer leaving Mister Bilbo?” Asked Hamfast, amicably, just as Bilbo was firmly closing his door gate, he really didn’t need another Lobelia incident...

“Yes, Hamfast. I’m going to visit the Thain. I don’t think it will take me more than a couple of days to be back. Could mind keeping an eye on my smial? You know how some people are...” Neither Bilbo nor Hamfast pointed it out but both knew who Bilbo was referring to.

“Of course not. Don’t you worry, I’ll keep a close eye on it.” Assured Hamfast, gently putting his hand on Bilbo’s arm.

Hamfast was always very gentle and soft, despite looking anything but it with his big physique; the only thing that gave away his soft nature were his eyes and blinding smile. He was Bilbo’s most treasured friend in Hobbiton, back since they were both young children.

Bilbo waved goodbye to Hamfast and walked at a good pace towards the Great Smials. It was a long walk but it eased Bilbo’s nerves. He was jittery and could barely keep himself from running all the way there. Could anyone blame him, though? These were pressing matters and as he kept getting closer to Thain’s house he couldn’t help but look around the town, watching as the people lived their day as always, unaware of the incoming danger than the next winter would bring.

Bilbo watched grimly at the young children, happily running around the main square. He could vividly recall the anguished scream that his aunt Poppy had let out when her youngest boy had perished to the Fell Winter. It could be heard through all Hobbiton and after that, his aunt had never been the same.

Bilbo let out a shaky sigh. His own mother had been another victim of such horrors...

There was no other way around it. Bilbo had no other choice but to go, he couldn’t let all these innocent people die when there was something he could do about it. He might not be as brave as his mother had once been but his parents didn’t raise him as a coward either. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, his mind made. He wasn’t going to run away and yes, perhaps it was scary to leave home, but Bilbo was still going to do it. For his people, for his parents—and most importantly—for himself.

He finally arrived at  _ the Great Smials _ , a good while before luncheon, and even before he can greet anyone he’s ushered inside the Thain’s study room. The Heads of the Twelve main families seated around the meeting table.

“Glad you’re finally here, boy.” Exclaimed Gorbadoc. He looked exhausted and it’s no wonder, as the Master of Buckland he had enough duties as it was and Bilbo could imagine that having to leave had not been an easy feat.

Now that he was looking around Bilbo could see that exhaustion was not a unique feature of the Master of Buckland. Everyone looked like they had aged at least ten years, worry marring their faces. 

It seemed that the news was taking a toll on everyone.

Bilbo sat down on the only available chair. “Yes, I tried to arrive as soon as I could. The Thain told me about the bad news but he left out a lot when it-”

“Bad news? These are more than bad news,  _ boy. _ ” Interrupted Adalgar Bolger, not trying to even hide the disdain in his voice.

Bilbo frowned, outraged and ready to put that old sack of bones in his place—for some unknown reason to Bilbo, Adalgar had always hated him, even since he was a young sapling—but Lavender beat him to it. 

“And we’re already taking the matter at hand.” She said, curtly. “And in case you had already forgotten due to your old age, this boy, as you call him, is the one that is going to aid us in doing that. Keep your nastiness to yourself, Bolger.” Lavender huffed, turning her head to avoid looking at him.

“Lavender is right, Adalgar. There’s no need to antagonize Bilbo, he’s already doing enough by going to the den of the wolves for the sake of our people.” 

Bilbo turned in surprise, to look at Clodio. Never in his life, he had thought he would live to hear a Sackville defend him, less alone the father of Lobelia. And he didn’t seem to be the only one! The rest of the hobbits were looking at Clodio as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Bilbo smiled faintly at him, not willing to take small miracles for granted, and Clodio nodded at him—his impassive face in place. 

Gerontius slapped his hands a couple of times. “Alright, alright. Back to business, if you please.”

Everyone went silent, waiting for the next words of the Thain.

“We have been on meetings for the last week, and finally we have come to an agreement about what needs to be done about it.” Gerontius got up and put his hands on top of the wooden table. He looked at every single one of the hobbits. He looked stronger than anyone would be at his age and Bilbo felt a new sort of respect grown in his heart for his grandfather. “By mutual agreement, we have decided to sign a treaty with the dwarves and to do so we’ll send Bilbo. He’s the head of the Baggins family and my grandson on top of that. He’s in his prime and is a clever boy, it’s the best choice we have and hopefully, the dwarves will think so too.”

Gerontius’ words seemed to be mostly for Bilbo than anyone else, nevertheless, he appreciated them, it wouldn't do to be the only who didn’t know anything about the plans, especially since he was supposed to talk to the dwarves about said plans.

Quickly enough Gerontius began his explanation. “We’re blessed enough that the dwarves seem in as much need of us as we are of them. Their lands are not as fertile as our and that’s becoming a real issue with the increase of new mouths to feed in the last years.”

Bilbo listened attentively, that King Thorin didn’t sound like a bad person. He was willing to deal with hobbits for the sake of his people, even welcome one in their mountain. Knowing how secretive dwarves were said a lot about their situation.

“With this in mind, they asked for food in exchange of helping us defend the Shire in case we suffer an attack during the harsher months of winter. The amounts of food have already been agreed upon and, after great debate, we know we’ll be able to fulfil our part of the agreement without fear of starving ourselves.” Gerontius took a bunch of slightly tattered papers and passed them to Bilbo.

Bilbo inspected them as Gerontius kept talking. Sure enough, there came the quantities of each item the dwarves have asked for. Bilbo paused for a moment, confused. “Why is there so little vegetables? Surely they would need more of those if their crops are not fertile.” Asked Bilbo. The list was long but far from unreasonable. Just by looking at it, Bilbo could see that they could easily be able to fulfil their conditions, after all the dwarves have asked for things that the Shire had in plenty, like rice, wheat, cattle and potatoes.

There was almost no mention of vegetables and it worried Bilbo.

“I asked the same thing my boy, but it seems dwarves have very little need for them and since they spoil rather soon they think it would be a waste.” Explained Gerontius.

Bilbo blinked in bafflement. No need for vegetables, Yavanna save him. “I-I see.”

“So far this is what we have agreed upon, but since we mostly communicate by letter there’s still much to discuss and we believed that sending someone who knows what the Shire can give, without putting ourselves at risk, and can see what the dwarves might need would be the right choice.” Gerontius slapped Bilbo’s back. “That’s your time to shine Bilbo. We’ll trust your good judgement and if you believe that the Shire has more to offer to the dwarves or we can get a better deal, feel free to change the agreement.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched in nervousness. “Are you truly sure about that? What if I muck it up and upset the dwarves?” He asked. The true burden of his task finally downing of him. 

“Lad, you're our only hope, and we’re putting all our trust in you,” Gorbadoc explained, his posture tense and his arms crossed. “We can’t send anyone else and Gerontius can’t leave the Shire at a time like this. All your uncles and aunts are busy with their own affairs and more so that the news about this upcoming winter will be made public soon.”

“We’ll make sure that you’re safe Bilbo but you have to be stronger and smarter than ever. We can’t afford to lose this, it would mean the doom of thousand of hobbits.” Lavender added, taking Bilbo’s hand in her own. She had been a dear friend of her mother and knew Bilbo better than most.

They were right. Bilbo had no time to doubt, everyone was doing their best and Bilbo couldn’t be different. He nodded and said, “yes. Yes, you’re right. Of course, you are.” Bilbo sighed and nervously fixed his waistcoat. “I’ll do my best, I promise you this.”

“That’s my boy!” Exclaimed Gerontius, his eyes joyful. “Have been your mother here, she would have gone with you.”

“Sadly, that’s not the case but I hope my boys are enough to ease your worries.” Gorbadoc smiled at Bilbo, the only positive emotion Bilbo had seen on him since he had arrived. “Dodinas and Rorimac will accompany you to Ered Luin. They won’t be able to stay with you there but at least you won’t go alone.”

Bilbo busted out laughing, to the surprise of everyone. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.” He dried a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s just that yesterday I was thinking that Dodinas and Rorimac would be a good choice to go to Ered Luin. I never expected they would actually come with me. That truly puts my worries at ease. Your sons are very fine hobbits, Gorbadoc.”

“That might be the case but it seems they weren’t quite to your taste, otherwise you would be my son-in-law by now!” Teased Gordobac.

“Oh, no. That’s not at all. Your sons are both very handsome,  _ very _ handsome indeed but you see-” Bilbo fidgeted in his seat, swallowing tickly as he felt Gordobac eyes on him. 

“Perhaps among the dwarves, you can find someone better suited for your tastes. I have heard dwarves are quite the adventurous race.” Gordobac winked cheekily at him and Bilbo was sure he was going to combust on the spot.

Ah, there it was. The Gorbadoc he knew and didn't quite manage to love.

Everyone laughed at Bilbo’s blushing face, even Bilbo couldn’t help letting out a few chuckles, Gordobac wasn’t entirely wrong after all.

  
  


That was enough to ease the mood of the room and after discussing a few more things the meeting was done. Just like he had told Hamfast Bilbo wasn’t able to get back to Bag End until the next day, everyone insisting he stay for another day at least.

Bilbo couldn’t say no, it had been too long since he had seen his extended family and with his upcoming trip this seemed like a perfect occasion to do so.

After arriving home Bilbo expected the rest of his week to pass slower than ever. He couldn’t have been more mistaken! Making all the arrangements needed to leave for, only Yavanna knows how much time, and leave everything order—while also helping his grandfather with the plans to begin stocking the supplies for winter—Bilbo had never been busier, he barely and time to eat and might have even lost a few pounds from the stress. 

Two days before leaving it finally happened.

The door rang and Bilbo pulled out his head from where he had stuck it in a wardrobe, in his efforts of trying to find a decent cloak. The door rang again and Bilbo went to answer it, doing his best to pat his clothes from any lingering dust.

“Is it true, Mister Bilbo? Is it true yer leaving to the Blue Mountains?!” Asked a rather frazzled Hamfast.

“I- Yes, I am. How come you know?” 

“The Thain told the news around the whole Shire! Still can’t believe this is happening.” Hamfast took off his hat and squeezed it against his chest. “The Fell Winter was bad enough. What will be of our children!”

Hamfast looked ready to start crying any minute and Bilbo hugged him as best as he could, not an easy feat, considering Hamfast was one of the tallest and biggest hobbits around the Shire. “That’s why I’m leaving Hamfast, to make sure all of your children are fine and none of us end up hurt this time around. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“But ye shouldn’t have to go alone. It’s not okay. I'll with you!” Hamfast shouted as he hugged him tighter and Bilbo felt his eyes burn.

There had been many times where Bilbo had been grateful to have Hamfast as his best friend, like when his parents died or Bilbo had gotten injured and Hamfast took care of him, but none of them came close to this. Hamfast had a family and wife—a whole life in the Shire—and he was willing to leave it behind to help Bilbo. 

Bilbo tightened his hold. He didn’t deserve Hamfast. “Don’t be silly. You can’t do that, you’re more useful staying here, my friend.” He grasped Hamfast by the shoulders. “You can’t leave Bell and the children alone, plus you’re one of the best farmers in all Arda. We need you here.”

“Will you be really okay on your own?” Asked Hamfast, dubiously.

“Of course! Dodinas and Rorimac will come with me.” Said Bilbo, confidently. 

"If you say so..." Murmured Hamfast.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bilbo wasn’t really okay. It had been three days since he had left the Shire and as it turned out he was allergic to ponies.

Riding a pony hadn’t been the only problem—sleeping in the open was far from comfortable and if Bilbo had to wake up to Dodinas kicking his face one more time, he might kill someone—but it sure was one that affected them all, everyone but Rorimac, it seemed.

“Why can you ride so well?” Asked Bilbo grumpily. “It’s annoying me.”

Dodinas laughed while Rorimac simply snorted. 

“He learned so he could impress you.” Answered Dodinas.

Rorimac got his pony close enough to Dodinas and pushed him. “Shut up, you dolt!” 

“He asked the Rangers to teach him, back in the days he had that puppy crush on you.” Explained Dodinas, dodging Rorimac’s attempts at hitting him.

Bilbo halted his pony unconsciously. “Oh.” He simply said, urging Minty to start walking again. “I see...” Bilbo tried to laugh to ease the awkwardness and when he was only met with silence he knew he had failed.

Damn him! He had never been good at faking emotions and that didn’t seem to about to change anytime soon.

Rorimac past infatuation was something neither him nor Bilbo talked about. It was way too embarrassing for both of them and nowadays—that they only liked each other as friends—it was quite an awkward topic to talk about. 

Sure, in the past Bilbo had felt quite flattered by Rorimac’s advances, not used to be liked by other hobbits like that, but they quickly found out that they were only meant to be friends. Now, if only the rest of The Shire would get the memo…

“So...” Said Dodinas, filling the deafening silence. “How do you think dwarves will be like? I have only seen them from afar but I never got the chance to speak with one.”

“Big.” Instantly answered Bilbo, his mind lost in memories of the past.

“Hairy.” Followed Rorimac.

“Yes, we all know they are big and hairy. But how about their personalities? They are infamous for their temper, right? Do you think it’s true?” Dodinas asked.

Bilbo shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You know how Men are, always gossiping and dissing other races, and I heard Elves don’t get on with dwarves so I wouldn’t listen to their rumours.” 

Dodinas hummed. “Well, they indeed seemed to be civil enough according to the Thain but Bilbo, how come you’re not scared of them? My father told me you seemed very reluctant to leave.”

“I-Well..” Bilbo trailed off. “It’s not really about the dwarves, more about being alone in an unknown place, surrounded by unknown people, set to fulfil a task I’m not sure I’m capable of.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I’m not as brave as I used to be and that scares me.”

“Bilbo you’re known all around the Shire for your cunningness, sure, some people call it more unpleasant things but.  _ But!” _ Dodinas reiterated when Bilbo was about to interrupt him. “We’re all aware that if anyone can talk to a dwarf and charm them enough to get them to sign a treaty it would be you.”

“He’s right  _ watermeal _ , have some faith in yourself!” Rorimac told him, slapping him on the back, strong enough to startle poor Minty. “Besides, didn’t you told me a few years ago you met a dwarf? He might live in Ered Luin!”

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “Would you stop calling me that. I'm not small anymore, we're the same height, For Yavanna's sake!" Bilbo huffed "Besides, that was many years ago and it was nothing but a brief encounter. The dwarf I met was a blacksmith and traveled around all Arda to find work, I doubt he would have settled in Ered Luin.”

“It might have been brief but it was enough to let you starry-eyed for a couple of years.” Teased Rorimac, not even paying any attention to Bilbo's complain about the silly nickname he had bestowed upon him when they were children.

Bilbo bit his lip, he hated when Rorimac was right. His meeting with Thorin, not King Thorin—dear gods, no—but  _ his  _ Thorin, had left Bilbo charmed enough to periodically keep going to the place they had met, for almost two years in the hopes he might meet with the sweet dwarf again.

He didn’t have such luck and with time, that fateful encounter with the dwarf became nothing more good memory, and if Bilbo still thought about him from time to time — in the solitude of his bedroom — that was no one else's business but his own.

“Oh, shush with you! You’re worse than old Amarilys when it comes to gossip!” Bilbo shouted. 

The three of them burst out laughing and started talking about the strangest things they had heard from her, the topic of the dwarves all but forgotten. 

* * *

Even by Pony, it took them almost two weeks to arrive at the inn that was closest to Ered Luin. They had agreed that the dwarves would meet with them there and from there on, it would be them the ones to escort Bilbo to Ered Luin.

Bilbo took a deep breath when he saw the unmistakable figures of two dwarves walking towards them.

“That must be them. Finally! I can’t wait to get back home. If I wake up to another spider trying to crawl inside my mouth I might die.” Exclaimed Dodinas, stretching his body after having climbed down from his pony.

Bilbo was about to mock him, all his attention on the Brandybuck brothers when suddenly a shadow covered him from behind.

“Ye must be the halflings.” Said a voice behind them.

Bilbo and Rorimac gasped, startled, meanwhile, Dodinas let out a scared—and quite pitiful—sound when he saw the person that had talked to them.

Bilbo finally processed what the dwarf had said and felt rage swell inside him and before he could even think he walked towards the dwarf, that seemed strong enough to kill him with his pinky, and shouted, “I’ll have you know we’re not half of anything!”

“Brother we’ve already talked about this. They are hobbits, not halflings.” Said another dwarf, this one more amicable looking. “Excuse my brother, he has no manners. You must be Master Baggins.”

Said brother simply clicked his tongue at him, in clear annoyance. 

“I- Yes. I am, and you are..” Bilbo trailed off, his body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline and the realization that he could have been easily killed for not thinking before acting. 

“My name is Balin, the King’s advisor and this is my brother Dwalin, the head guard.” 

Dwalin simply nodded at them, seemingly not put off by Bilbo’s sudden hissy fit. 

“We-Well. I guess this is where we part ways...” Said Dodinas, hesitantly. 

Bilbo turned to look at him and saw his worried face, and it was no wonder. Bilbo would be worried about himself too if he was in their places. “I’ll be fine, you’ll see.” He reassured them, and himself, trying his best to sound as he believed his words.

“Promise me you’ll write when you when you get there.” Said Rorimac, a frown marring his face.

Bilbo smiled and went by his side. “I promise.” 

Rorimac hugged him and Bilbo squeezed him just as hard. Their relationship might not be what it used to be but he was still a treasured friend of Bilbo. 

“You better take of yourself  _ watermeal _ .” Told him Rorimac, while rubbing their noses together, in the traditional hobbitish greeting.

Dodinas rubbed his hair and said. “We’ll be waiting for your return.”

“Thank you.” Said Bilbo, softly. “For everything.”

Both brothers simply smiled at him and climbed on their ponies. Bilbo watched them go for a couple of minutes. 

“Shall we go?” Asked the dwarf named Balin.

Bilbo took a deep breath and thought, this is it, there’s no coming back. “We shall.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> -Winterfilth would be the hobbit equivalent of October for us.  
> -Watermeals are the smallest flowers in the world and it used to be Bilbo's nickname bc he was utterly tiny as a child lol.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr by x-kytanna-x


	2. PATH 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! And since tomorrow I'm gonna be hella busy you're getting the chapter one day earlier. 
> 
> I have added a few more tags, also I wanted to point out that this chapter had mentions of mpreg and that in futures chapter it might be a big thing (I'm not completely sure yet). I know some people dislike it so I wanna make sure you guys know in advance.
> 
> Also, I want to thank every single kudo and comment you have left me. It means the world! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Their way to the mountains was spent mostly in silence and Bilbo wasn’t quite sure how to break it after his outburst. 

Silence couldn’t remain forever though, so while they stopped for a quick meal Bilbo took his chance. He cleared his throat and asked, “so how long will be until we reach Ered Luin? We’re already in the mountains but I was wondering if it’s very far from here.”

“None at all, it won’t take us more than a couple of hours to get there. You won’t have to spend another night sleeping outside Master Baggins.” Assured Balin, amicable enough.

Bilbo liked Balin, he seemed like a nice fellow and — unlike his brother — looked to be able to carry a good conversation. He seemed versed in the way of hobbits, at least enough to know Bilbo needed to stop multiple times to eat food.

He didn’t know what to think of Dwalin. His very appearance screamed murder but so far he hadn’t done any of that. Bilbo didn’t like to judge people too quickly and although the dwarf had insulted his entire race, it looked like he hadn’t done it out of malice. It appeared Bilbo would have to wait before he could judge what kind of dwarf Dwalin was.

“Oh! That’s marvellous news. I’m not used to sleeping in the open so this has been quite challenging. The whole trip has been, actually. I didn’t expect to develop an allergy to ponies.”

“Yer the grandson of the King, aren’t you?” Interrupted Dwalin, already preparing his pony to ride again.

“Yes, one of them.” Answered Bilbo, nodding. “But don’t have kings in the Shire, he’s the Thain.”

“Isn’t it the same but said with a fancy word?” Grumbled Dwalin, his face scrunched in confusion. 

Balin sighed. “I apologize Master Baggins. I assure you my brother is not stupid but these sort of matters fly over his stone-head.” He turned sharply to Dwalin and began rapidly talk to him in another language Bilbo couldn’t understand. 

That must be the rumoured and utterly secret dwarven language. The only thing Bilbo knew about it it was that it was called _khuzdul_ , anything from that had been impossible to find.

Bilbo bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. He might not be able to learn the language but just listening to it made him feel privileged. According to his books, it was extremely rare to hear a conversation between dwarves in their language, being as secretive as they were.

“So you’re the eldest, I assume, since you were the one sent.” Said Balin, after he finished scolding his brother. He might have talked in another language but Bilbo could recognize a good scolding when he saw one, Dwalin's rolling eyes didn't help from dissuading him from that notion. 

“I’m the youngest, actually.” Clarified Bilbo. "Among the nineteen of us, I'm the only one who knows the affairs of the Shire almost as well the Thain and the only one who could leave his own affairs for an unlimited amount of time. That's why I was chosen for the task." 

Well, perhaps Bilbo wasn't as involved with the affairs of the Shire as he had said but it didn't hurt to embellish his importance a little.

“Nineteen you said?!” Exclaimed Balin. 

Bilbo turned to face them and looked away from where he was checking his saddle. Both Balin and Dwalin had surprise painted across their bearded faces.

“Yes. I suppose that’s a big number, but considering he had twelve children it’s not that big.” Reasoned Bilbo, slightly unsure about what the issue was.

The dwarves let out a dying sound and Bilbo looked at them with worry. “What is it?”

“Is yer grandmother alive?” Asked Dwalin after a while. 

“Well, no, but she died of old age not during childbirth, if that’s what you’re asking. Is it truly that odd to have that amount of children?” Bilbo asked, curiosity shining in his eyes. "I suppose we're quite a fertile race, given that gender is not an issue for us."

"What do you mean?" Asked Dwalin, frowning in confusion.

"We were blessed by Yavanna, you see. She gave us the gift of life, both male and female hobbits can bear children, of course for males is far more complicated but it can happen if both parties want it and love takes place. My uncles had had four children that way." Explained Bilbo, smiling at the memory of his mischievous cousins.

“I -I see. It appears the rumoured fertility of hobbits was not a rumour at all.” Balin murmured, mostly talking to himself, and looking slightly faint. After a while, he said, “you see, laddie, us dwarves are not as lucky. Our numbers are nowhere near that big and, for us, having more than one child is a miracle on its own.”

“Oh. I- I’m sorry to hear that.” Said Bilbo, feeling slightly bad for having brought up the topic. 

Balin simply nodded while Dwalin kept that slightly unnerved look he had gotten since the moment Bilbo had mentioned how many relatives he had.

Bilbo decided to close his big mouth, for the time being, the last thing he wanted was to offend the dwarves and talking about such a sensitive topic — that seemed to greatly affect dwarves — had been bad enough.

They rode on their ponies in silence and it wasn't until an hour later, finally getting tired of the silence Bilbo asked, “Balin, you said we’re less than a couple of hours away but it's been an hour and I can’t see anything but trees.”

“That’s because our kingdom is well hidden so outsiders can’t enter it. Only a dwarf can find the way.” Explained Dwalin, not even looking turning to look at Bilbo.

So that was the reason, Bilbo had been getting worried about not seeing any trace of any dwarven settlement but it made sense. Ered Luin wasn’t very big, for what his grandfather had told him, so that meant that in the case they were attacked it would be more difficult to defend themselves. 

“We’re near Master Baggins.” Balin pointed at the entrance of a deep forest, with trees taller than the any other Bilbo had ever seen. By Yavanna, he could barely spot the treetop!

“In the forest?” Asked Bilbo, surprised.

“In the forest.” Told him, Balin.

If it had been for Bilbo he would have never entered that forest on his own accord. It was dark and quite frankly more than a tad spooky. It felt as if the forest itself was telling you back off. If anything else, it was quite convenient for a hiding spot…

“You can stop calling me that. I would prefer it if you simply called me Bilbo.” He said as they entered the forest. Bilbo steered Minty closer to the dwarves, just in case. “I came so we could become allies, that means we’re equals so you can just call me by my name, if you don’t mind.”

Balin smiled in a peculiar way Bilbo wasn’t so sure how to interpret, even Dwalin was looking at him oddly. Bilbo hoped he hadn’t said anything wrong. 

“Very well, Bilbo.” Said Balin, after a while.

They got deeper into the forest and if he wasn’t let by the dwarves Bilbo was certain he would have never been able to get out of there. The path ahead of him was dark and it was unnaturally silent, no animals could be heard. It reminded him slightly of the Old Forest, he supposed this was what outsiders felt when they tried to enter the Shire through the forest. Huh, it certainly put things into perspective. 

Balin led them through a path that was no path at all, the trees almost touching each other and in the places where there weren’t any trees the shrubbery made up for them. They took a sharp turn and suddenly they were out of the forest.

Bilbo inhaled sharply in surprise, the great stone wall that stood before him taking his breath away. It looked like something out of the novels he so dearly loved to read. 

The wall was the right size to not bee seen above the trees but tall enough that trying to climb it would be almost impossible. Looking around Bilbo was unable to find a visible entrance.

Balin climbed down from his pony and walked towards a specific part of the wall, he knocked the wall with his fist in a complex pattern. For a moment nothing happened and Bilbo wondered if Balin had mistaken the place of what seemed to be a secret entrance, but his doubts were quickly eased for not a moment later Bilbo heard a click and the door opened, making the ground shake. A dwarf, armed to the teeth, stood on the other side. 

Balin climbed back on top of his pony and steered her towards the entrance. Dwalin waited for Bilbo to go in the middle before advancing himself. Bilbo looked around him but nothing could be seen. They were in complete darkness, the only light being the torch that the guard— that was in the front of Balin — carried. If they were still inside the wall or if they had finally entered the mountain Bilbo didn’t know. 

He didn’t want to ask either, at least not just yet. The look the guard of the wall had given him was anything but friendly. Even Dwalin hadn’t looked at with such mistrust. Bilbo was afraid that if he said anything the dwarf might slash his neck and leave him there to rot. Balin was quite a nice dwarf but Bilbo wouldn’t fool himself by thinking that when the time came he would choose an outsider above his people. Bibo wasn’t that stupid.

He rubbed his hands together, the cold from the stone seeping into his very soul. Bilbo almost screamed when he felt something heavy fall on top of him, he tried to shook it off only to realize it was a cloak.

Bilbo looked at it in astonishment, it was not his. He was already wearing it and now that Bilbo had in it his hands he noticed it was still warm.

He turned to look behind him and, sure enough, Dwalin was glancing at him...His green cloak nowhere on sight.

“Wear it, ye look like yer gonna freeze, lad.” 

Bilbo blinked, still unsure if he wasn’t imagining things. “Thank you, Dwalin,” he said, putting on the cloak. It was huge on him and Bilbo felt like a tiny sapling all over again but the cloak was warm and it chased the cold away, and for that, Bilbo was grateful.

Dwalin nodded at him with a grunt and when he turned again he found Balin looking at them with a smug smile painted on his face. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ered Luin, it turned out, was everything and nothing at all how Bilbo had expected it to be. There was plenty of dwarves, Bilbo had even seen a couple of children and — as he expected — all of them looked at Bilbo with mistrust and contempt. All of that he had expected, dwarves were a solitary and extremely proud race, so he could understand that having to rely on outsiders and even had one of them enter their lands was more than they could cope with. That didn’t mean it hurt any less, Bilbo had never felt more unwelcome in forty-five years of age.

What had been a big surprise was the fact that their homes weren’t inside the mountain. After his meeting with Thorin all those years ago he had tried to find about dwarves as much as he could and one thing that was public knowledge was that dwarves lived inside mountains, so to see that that wasn’t the case in Ered Luin was a big surprise; especially because once inside the city Bilbo could see the mountain range. Balin had explained to him that due to the instability of the mountain, and the lack of resources to fortify it, they couldn’t live inside it. 

Ered Luin, despite being small and austere was well protected; on one side it was surrounded by trees, on the other, it had the mountain and to make sure no outsider entered it had the wall to protect it. It was an impenetrable fortress and Bilbo pitied anyone that dared to become an enemy of these dwarves.

Balin and Dwalin led him deeper inside the city until they reached a house bigger than the rest, having left the ponies behind a little while before, they walked pass various rooms until they reached one that was slightly distanced from the rest.

“These are Thorin’s Halls and this is where you’ll be staying, laddie.” Said Balin as he opened the door with a key.

Bilbo entered the room, he looked around and gasped. 

He had thought they would give him a simple bedroom at best but inside that room, there was a whole house. Bilbo walked around it; there was a bedroom, a private bathroom, a cosy living room and even a kitchen!

All of that was for himself! 

“The King himself arranged this place for you, following your grandfather’s instructions,” explained Balin. “I take you like it!”

“The place is marvellous, Balin. I even have my own kitchen!” Bilbo said, excited. “I’ll make sure to thank the king the next I see him.”

“We’ll leave you to rest then. A meeting about the treaty will be held tomorrow, I’ll send someone to bring you over.” Balin said, already heading towards the door, where Dwalin had stood since they entered the room.

“Wait!” Shouted Bilbo in an act of bravery. Both dwarves turned to look at him. “You could come around some time for dinner if you want. That way I can properly thank you for escorting me here. I’ll even make dessert!” Quickly added Bilbo, when neither of the dwarves said anything.

“We kindly accept your offer, laddie.” Said Balin, after a few seconds, looking slightly surprised but pleased. “Perhaps after the meeting, we could come by.”

“Yes! Dinner is always ready by six so you can come around that time!” Said excitedly. He liked the brothers and the prospect of not being completely alone during his stay cheered Bilbo immensely. 

“Thank you, Bilbo.” Said Balin, patting him on the arm. “I expect great things from this alliance.”

* * *

After they left Bilbo took his time looking around the place that would be his home for the time being. Everything was beautiful and it looked recently made, so Bilbo assumed most of the items had been made especially for him. Definitely not what he had been expecting, dwarves were unfamous across all Arda for not being the most welcoming hosts when it came to outsiders, let alone those who weren’t even from the same race. Bilbo was pleasantly surprised, while dwarves were not ones to cater to idle chat or bother with pleasantries they had treated Bilbo kindly — at least the ones he had met personally. 

Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so bad, Bilbo thought. 

He wondered, as he put all his things away and took notice of the things he would have to buy, if their king would be as wise and amicable as Balin or if he would be as rough as Dwalin. Apart from his name and the letters he had sent — and if Gerontius had been right, he hadn’t even written those — Bilbo didn’t know anything about the King he was supposed to spend the majority of his time negotiating with. It was slightly worrying but the fact that he would be meeting him the next day eased Bilbo’s mind. 

It wasn’t until he laid in one of the softest beds he had ever laid on, belly full from his supper, that he thought of _his_ Thorin. Bilbo wondered what he would be up to. Their meeting had lasted less than a couple of days but Bilbo still remembered like it had been just a week before. Bilbo couldn’t very well understand it, it had been around three years that that had happened and Bilbo still couldn’t forget about him. It felt like Thorin had been craved inside his soul and despite barely knowing anything about him Bilbo felt drawn to him in a way he had never about anyone else.

It was strange and it didn’t make any sense at all but Bilbo had given up on finding sense in what he felt for the dwarf, it wasn’t love, certainly not — they knew nothing of the other — but it was _something_ , something Bilbo didn’t have the words for. He hoped to see him again one day, maybe accompany him in his travels for a while. It was foolish and fanciful, and Bilbo knew it was very unlikely that would happen. Their meeting had been accidental and one in a lifetime, but it was nice to dream about it. Bilbo would have liked to get to know the dwarf better.

There were times when Bilbo thought everything had been nothing more than a fanciful dream of his. It had been too perfect and too short to be true, it was in times like these that Bilbo took out the small dagger Thorin had gifted him before parting, and held it tightly against his chest — the only tangible proof that their encounter had been real. 

Bilbo’s last thought, as he drifted into the world of dreams, was that wherever Thorin was and whatever he was doing Bilbo hoped he was happy and healthy.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bilbo chewed blissfully into the last bit of his scone. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept that well. He sighed happily, he could get used to this, though, as he idly looked towards the clock. 

Oh, dear. 

It seemed his second breakfast had taken him more than he had expected. Balin hadn’t told him when they would come looking for him but Bilbo didn’t want to be caught on his sleeping wear like a slob. No, that won’t do. He had to be ready before they arrived.

Bilbo rushed around the rooms, picking out his best clothes and taking the fastest bath in existence. Bilbo was very glad they had accommodated him a small bathroom of his own. For what he knew dwarves prefered to use communal bathhouses rather than having a bathtub on their own house. Bilbo wasn’t prudish, by any means, but he preferred his time alone when cleaning up. It was his private time when Bilbo liked to think and enjoy the privacy of it. 

It was as he was washing his plate, all primped up, that he heard a loud and very insistent knock on the door. 

“One moment, please!” Shouted Bilbo, drying his hands as he headed for the door. That must be them. Inwardly Bilbo hoped Balin had come himself to fetch him or at least that he had sent someone nice.

Bilbo opened the door to find a couple of dwarves. Dwarves, much to Bilbo’s chagrin, looked all very alike to him, in all but the colouring of their hair — their features hidden by their beards and accessories — but Bilbo was plenty sure he had never seen these two. They looked young, certainly not children, but younger than Bilbo. 

“Hello,” said Bilbo, at last.

“Hello, Master Boggins! We came to pick you up.” Exclaimed the one with brown hair. His voice cheerful and booming.

“Kee, I told you it’s Baggins, not Boggins.” Chastised the blond one, but if the slight twitch of his beard was anything, Bilbo would bet he was finding it funny.

“No. I’m pretty sure Balin said ‘Boggins’.”

“It’s Baggins actually.” Interfered Bilbo, as he eyed them more critically. The glint in their eyes told Bilbo all he needed to know. 

They were rascals. Tooks at heart, there was no mistaking it and Bilbo would bet his whole set of spoons that more often than not they were up to no good.

“See! Told you!” Exclaimed smug the blond dwarf.

“You now know my name but I’m not sure I caught yours.”

“That’s because we didn’t tell you.” Replayed both dwarves with a smile.

It would be charming, Bilbo mused — in a strange and slightly creepy way — if at least afterwards they had actually given him their names. But no, they just stood there, smiling at Bilbo. Most likely knowing what they were doing and enjoying it immensely.

Yes, Bilbo had been right. Absolute Tooks, those two.

“I refuse to call you ‘brown dwarf’ and ‘blond dwarf’.” Testily said Bilbo, after waiting for what felt like a year. “Either you tell me your names or I give you some myself, and I’ll have you know I’m not above naming you after flowers.” Bilbo was probably being very rude right now, but in his defence, they had started, and if his hunch was right this was the right way to deal with them. It worked with his Took cousins, so Bilbo was going to take his chances and hope for the best.

It paid off. The dwarves had looked at Bilbo like gaping fish for a couple of seconds but after that, they were cracking up like hyenas. Bilbo pressed his lips together, pushing back the smile that treated to take over his face. Yes, they were young, thought Bilbo, as he watched them laugh. 

Bilbo wondered who they were. Where they guards? Hm, perhaps part of the council. No, Bilbo shook his head, that last one was unlikely, the council in the Shire was full of old people, too set on their ways. These boys were too bright to be part of something as boring as a council.

“That was unexpected. It’s the first time we meet a hobbit, you see.” Said the blond dwarf with a smile. “My name is Fíli,” finally said, then he pointed to the other dwarf, “and this is my brother, Kíli. At your service, Master Baggins.” 

Both of them bowed at Bilbo and he found himself chuckling at their antics. Very Took-ish, these boys. Bilbo nodded at them as he said, “very pleased to meet you, Fíli and Kíli. Now, you were here to take me to a meeting, weren’t you?” Inquired Bilbo, suddenly remembering the reason for them being there.

“Oh yes! The meeting. We have to hurry, we were supposed to come for you ten minutes ago.” Said Kíli, smiling apologetically at Bilbo when he directed a horrified look at them.

“What?! Oh, dear!” Bilbo ran inside his house and picked up his coat, haphazardly putting it on. As he scrambled around the house, searching for the blasted documents the elders had given him, Bilbo distantly noticed the lads entering his house.

“Very well, I’m ready!” Bilbo told them as went towards the kitchen, papers in hand. He found Fíli and Kíli eating the leftovers of the scones he had made early in the morning.

They looked at him, mouths stuffed full and bearded cheeks covered with crumbs. Bilbo lifted an eyebrow in their direction and gave them an unimpressed look. 

“Sorry,” said Fíli, at least having the decency to apologize, unlike his brother who stuffed the rest of his scone in one bite. “We couldn’t help ourselves, they’re delicious.”

“Did you make them?” Asked Kíli, or at least Bilbo thought he said that, with his mouth that full it was hard to understand. 

Either way, Bilbo swell with pride, they might have bad manners but at least they had good taste. “I did! They were my father’s recipe.” Bilbo caught another glance to the clock. “Boys, as flattered as I am, we need to leave.”

“Crap!” They swallowed the rest of their pastries and Fíli pulled Bilbo by the arm. “Let’s go, this way.”

“We’re really sorry, Master Baggins. We didn’t know you were this nice.” Explained Kíli as they led him deeper into the halls, taking paths and hallways Bilbo had no way of recognizing. 

“There’s goes my chance at making a good first impression, I suppose.” Lamented Bilbo. “I just hope the King won’t be too angry.”

“Oh, don’t worry! Thorin’s a nice person. He’s very serious and a bit stern and can be mean sometimes but he doesn’t mean anything by it, he just worries.” Kíli tried to reassure him. 

“He’s a very fine King, though,” added his brother, a proud smile in his face.

“I see.” Said Bilbo as they went past a door, suddenly on the outside. He hoped someone would accompany him when he had to get back because Bilbo didn’t feel confident to make the way back on his own and not get irreparably lost. 

He took a deep breath, they were rushing through the streets now and the dwarves he could glance at were sending him mistrustful glares. Right. Bilbo hoped the King wouldn’t be like them, otherwise, his stay in Ered Luin would be quite awkward.

One thing he noticed, though, was that while Bilbo was given the ‘stinky eye’, Fíli and Kíli were given some nods and a few smiles as they passed. They must be of good standing, concluded Bilbo, if that wasn’t proof enough, then the way they were dressed would have done it. Not guards then.

“Just be calm and don’t let the council intimidate you. Most of them are just a bunch of old stones.” Said Fíli as they entered a building. It was inconspicuous on the outside but the inside was a different matter. The stones that made the walls were clad with beautiful crystals, the tapestries and carpets looked slightly worn but were made of good material and were very well taken care off. All in all, to Bilbo, it looked as magnificent as a palace. “We’re here. Good luck, Bilbo.”

“Oh look. There’s Thorin.” Kíli pointed a dwarf that seemed to be talking to a couple of guards. His back was towards them and Bilbo couldn’t see his face, no matter how much he craned his neck. 

They kept walking and Fíli said, “sorry. We’re late, it’s our fault.”

Bilbo was about to take a deep breath and introduce himself when the King turned and all the air left Bilbo’s lungs. 

He couldn’t breathe.

His heart hammered wildly inside his chest and he couldn't take a single breath.

This must be what a heart failure felt like, vaguely thought Bilbo — feeling slightly faint — because right in front of him was Thorin. 

Not Thorin, king of Erebor, but Thorin — _Bilbo’s_ _Thorin._ The lovely and sweet dwarf he had met so long ago.

Yes, Bilbo was sure he was having a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm an evil rat. The cliffhanger is not fair but Thorin has finally made his appearance, and we got Fíli and Kíli so I hope that makes up for it. I know everyone was waiting for the reunion, I promise that will happen fully on the next chapter. You can yell at me tho, I won't get mad. 😂
> 
> As always you can come scream bagginshield at me on tumblr at x-kytanna-x!


	3. PATH 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo finally meet and nothing goes as Bilbo expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank the moment I decided to update this fic every ten days and that I have at least 2 chapters written in advance bc this week I couldn't write anything at all. We're having heat wave and I'm melting in my own suffering, plus thanks to corona pools are not open so yeah, I'm melting. Your comments are the only thing that's keeping me alive. ❤︎❤︎
> 
> We finally got to the part all of you were waiting for, Thorin and Bilbo finally meet and the story is finally moving! Hope you enjoy it!

In hindsight, Bilbo should have expected this. It was too much of a coincidence that he would get to meet two dwarves that went by the same name. He hadn’t thought much of it because Thorin wasn’t such an uncommon name among dwarves and the idea of the humble and strong dwarf that had been searching for, all around Arda, would be a King was too impossible to conceive. Except it wasn’t, apparently. Because as it had turned out, Thorin  _ was _ a king, of a not very rich country, but still very much a king.

Of course. 

Of course, that would happen, that was just Bilbo’s luck, wasn’t it?

Sometimes Bilbo was sure Yavanna had it out for him…

Bilbo swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel his hands slightly trembling, Bilbo had been mentally prepared for many things — from disagreeable lords to never-ending meetings — but not for this. Never in his wildest dreams, Bilbo would have thought he would encounter Thorin —  _ his Thorin _ — in Ered Luin.

Bilbo wondered if Thorin still remembered him. For him, that meeting had been life-changing but he wasn’t under the illusion that it had been the same for Thorin. He had been a dwarf that travelled around the vast world, it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had helped him, let alone cached on his sweet — although stubborn — character and beautiful looks. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had forgotten about Bilbo.

And by looking at the stern and cold eyes, set in a deep frown Bilbo had never seen before in that face, Bilbo already had his answer. It was a disappointing and a crashing reality, despite having been aware of the possibility, it still hurt. Deep inside Bilbo had yearned for the slight chance — as small as it was — that the short time they had spent together would have been as special to the dwarf as it had been for him. But this wasn’t a dream, this was the real world and the reality was that Thorin didn’t even recognize him. 

It was fine, Bilbo tried to convince himself, blinking repeatedly to keep at bay the tears that gathered in his eyes. It was fine because he didn’t recognize this Thorin either, clad in majestic clothes and a crown sitting atop his clean and oiled raven locks and eyes so cold they could freeze the very fire of a Balrog. Besides, the last thing Bilbo had come here for was to indulge in romance, His people needed him and Bilbo had to be at his best if was about to convince the dwarves of the terms of the treaty.

Yes. It was better if Bilbo simply pretended he didn’t know Thorin either. Less awkward explanations and he might not even have to have his heart broken further. 

“Sorry for my tardiness, your Majesty.” Said Bilbo in a surprisingly steady voice, bowing slightly and not meeting Thorin eyes, his hands still trembling behind his back. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, I was sent from the Shire.”

Bilbo raised his head and darted a look at Thorin’s face. He stopped himself from making any sound, the king’s frown had deepened and now was straight up glaring at Bilbo. His heart gave a painful squeeze at the same time as he felt anger built inside him.

Unrelated to the fact that he had forgotten about him, Thorin was being unfathomably rude. Bilbo may have complicated feelings towards him, but not because of that he was about to let anyone look down on him. He gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t say anything now, they hadn’t even begun the negotiations and Bilbo wasn’t about to muck it all up, besides, it was his fault for arriving late but if this continued Bilbo doubted he could hold himself from saying a few words to the King. 

“I-” Began saying Thorin but he stopped himself, sighing and giving Bilbo an unreadable look. “So you’re the ambassador.” Thorin simply said, his tone lifeless as he directed a nod of acknowledgement at Bilbo, he kept looking at Bilbo for a couple of seconds to only shake his head afterwards. “Come, the council awaits.” He said at last, as he turned his back and walked inside the room.

Bilbo frowned. He had never thought Thorin would have the word ‘lifeless’ attached to him. It seemed that three years could change a person greatly, but he supposed he could hardly consider himself a great judge of character when it came to Thorin, less than a week was nowhere near enough time to know someone.

He followed Thorin and waved goodbye at the boys, who had stayed back during the whole exchange. They looked troubled, Bilbo noticed, and he just hoped they wouldn’t get in any trouble for this. Albeit it had been their own fault but they were good lads and so far the only ones who hadn’t looked with contempt at him — apart from Balin and Dwalin.

They entered a room. The two guards — Dwalin being one of them — inside closing the door behind bilbo. The room was big and had an even bigger table in the middle. There must have been around twenty chairs but only seven were being used, one of them by Balin. That was when the enormity of his task finally dawned on Bilbo, and for the first time since he had left the Shire, he felt truly scared. 

It was the sight of Balin and the greeting smile he sent on Bilbo’s way the only thing that kept him from bolting from the room. He took a deep breath and met the disdainful looks that at least half of the dwarves in the room were sending him. 

“We can finally commence. Please take a seat, Master Baggins.” Said Thorin as he signalled with his hand the empty chair between Balin and a Lady with brown hair, not even bothering to look at Bilbo once. At least he wasn’t being rude anymore.

Bilbo walked towards his chair and sat, nodding briefly to Balin and the Lady that was sat beside him in greeting. Thorin now lay sat on his own chair, at the end of the table. 

Nobody said anything for a few seconds and quite frankly, it was making Bilbo anxious. It was the first time he had seen dwarves so quiet and it was more than a little unnerving. 

Finally, Balin got up. “We begin this meeting, with the purpose of the treaty between the dwarves of Ered Luin and the hobbits from the Shire. From the Shire, we have the ambassador Bilbo Baggins, grandson of the Thain of the Shire.” Balin motioned Bilbo and he got a couple of nods from the rest of the council, while the rest of them simply ignored Bilbo. “From Ered Luin, we have the council and King Thorin, son of Thraín. And I, Balin, son of Fundin, will be acting as a neutral party as I was the one in charge to overlook most of the correspondence between the Shire and Ered Luin.” 

Balin sat down again and Bilbo took account of what he had said. So it had been just as his grandfather has suspected...

It had been someone else he had been answering in the name of the King. This complicated things, then. Bilbo didn’t know what kind of king Thorin was and for all Bilbo knew he could not be aware of a single thing of what Balin and Gerontius had been taking all these months.

Well, in that case, Bilbo would have to explain everything. If he was lucky everything would be over soon and in less than a month he would be going back to the Shire.

He was about to open his mouth and begin by bringing up what Gerontius had offered them when a Lord interrupted him, banging the table with his fist, covered in shiny rings. “Why do we need some halflings butting into our business? We were once mighty dwarf Lords! How did we got reduced to have to conform with the pity of these beardless beings!” He suddenly shouted.

Bilbo gaped at him, the dwarf was trembling with rage and his face was twisted in an ugly sneer, fully directed at Bilbo. He was big and old, his face was scarred on one side and he was clad in heavy and ostentatious clothes. 

He looked around the room and most of the dwarves shouted in agreement, even those who didn’t, looked like they wanted. Bilbo turned his head at Balin, he hadn’t said anything, and while he seemed apologetic at the outburst he didn’t seem to disagree to what had been said. Bilbo felt panic wash over him. Looking at Thorin, as a last resort, he finally understood it. Watching his slightly downcast and resigned look, he knew it.

They didn’t want Bilbo here. 

This was not going to work. 

Bilbo didn’t need endless meetings to see it, they thought they were above hobbits and if it wasn’t because they needed something they would have never even thought of answering Gerontius letters.

Bilbo was used to it, all hobbits were. Men tended to treat them like children, it didn’t matter that they were older than them, even Gandalf made that mistake sometimes, but as annoying as it was, most of them just dismissed it as another oddity of the Big Folk. 

This, though, this was different. 

Bilbo bit his lip as he felt frustration and anger built up inside him. It wasn't fair. He couldn't believe this was happening.

He felt the moment the exact moment his anger reached it's peak, all patience leaving him as fury took its place. It felt as if the rope that kept his temperament in check had finally snapped. It was too much... 

Bilbo suddenly got up and slapped his hand on top of the wooden table, making it tremble, ignoring the sharp pain that went from his palm, all the way to his shoulder, he looked straight at the dwarf that had dared to insult Bilbo and his race as a whole. 

Bilbo felt all eyes directed at him, the mayhem having stopped at Bilbo’s outburst. “Excuse me but who are you to judge the value of my people?!” The dwarf looked taken back and Bilbo relished on it. “Since I’ve arrived I have been looked with nothing but contempt and straight-up aggression. If you didn’t mean for this treaty to happen you could have simply refused my grandfather’s offer and we would have saved each other a whole deal of trouble. I can't afford this kind of loss, there is a lot at stake and my peo-"

“ _ Loss _ ? What do  _ you _ know about loss, Master Baggins?” Thorin suddenly interrupted, looking as angry as Bilbo felt.

Bilbo scoffed. “I know enough of it, Master dwarf.” Answered Bilbo, sounding as condescending as he could. “And if you all think in the way that Lord over there does,” Bilbo pointed his finger at the dwarf that had started it all, “then I can very well get my things and leave. I will find help somewhere else. I’m not going to waste my time with stubborn dwarves whose pride is bigger than their mountains and more important than the lives of their kin and children.” Bilbo pushed his chair aside, the sound resounding across the silent room. “I, unlike you, care about my people and if I have to go all the way to Mount Doom by foot to find help then I will!”

Bilbo walked all the way to the doors, his whole body trembling with rage and disbelief. Dwalin and the other guard that was in front of the door got out of his way and Bilbo pushed the doors open and left, not even bothering to close them.

Bilbo headed back to his quarters, his feet slapping against the cold stone. It took him around an hour to get there, having lost his way more than once but in the end, he finally reached his rooms and after having time to less his anger simmer down Bilbo was feeling calmer. He was still feeling frustrated and disappointed but the raw anger was finally gone. 

His outburst had been a stupid thing to do and if he had any chance of reaching an agreement with the dwarves he had probably ruined it with his enraged speech, but Bilbo didn’t regret it. 

Although, now that he was with a cool head he had to figure out what to do from now on. He doubted the dwarves would let him stay and, to be frank, Bilbo didn’t want that either, especially if the treaty was not going to happen. He could start by sending his grandfather a letter. Perhaps Bilbo could travel directly to another place that would be willing to help them.

With that thought in mind, Bilbo got to work, writing letters to Rorimac, the elders, his grandfather and even Gandalf, just in case. Bilbo had no idea where he should send the letter but he was starting to feel desperate. They were running out of time and every day that passed was a day less they had before winter came. 

It was around the time when he was making his dinner, a little later than usual, that he heard knocks on the door.

They were here to toss him out, thought Bilbo, for what other reason would he be having visitors?

He headed for the door and opened it, ready to scream some more at the misfortunate dwarves that were behind his door, only to find himself face to face with Dwalin and Balin.

He was about to ask what on earth were they doing here when it hit him and Bilbo suddenly remembered the promised they made the day before, when he was still positive things would go smoothly and calmly between them.

“See? I told ye he wouldn’t want us here,” was the first thing Dwalin said, sending a disgruntled look at his brother.

“But what if he had been waiting for us and we didn’t turn up? That would have been ruder.” Replied Balin.

Bilbo got around gathering his wits and got over his surprise. “Well, hello. I-” Bilbo stopped himself, taking a moment to breathe, before he continued, “I’m rather sorry to say this, but I had forgotten all about you coming over for dinner.”

“We can leave if we’re bothering ye.” Dwalin punctuated his words by elbowing Balin on the side, to which his brother answered with a glare.

Bilbo’s well-ingrained manners  _ screeched _ at the very idea of making his guest leave with an empty belly. He might still be burning with anger, and disappointment may be clouding his gaze but he was still a hobbit, and foremost a Baggins and Bagginses were not only the most respectable hobbits in The Shire but also the best hosts.

“No, no! Please, come inside. It will take a little bit but I’ll make something for you right away. I was the one to invite you, it would entirely rude to chase you away now that you’re here.” Bilbo opened the door further and stepped aside, motioning with a hand for them to enter.

“Are you sure, laddie? We wouldn’t want to impose, especially not after-” Balin cut himself before finishing the sentence but it wasn’t needed, the three of them knew what he meant. 

_ Not after you stormed off and ruined all the possible chances of future connections between our races, let alone a treaty. _

Bilbo’s nose twitched. Right.

“I’m sure, do come in.” Answered Bilbo, his tone not giving place to more arguments.

They entered his temporary house and Bilbo saw their attire. They were still very much dressed the same they had been on the morning, Dwalin was even still wearing his armour and carrying his weapons.

Balin noticed his puzzled stare and kindly told him, “we apologize for not coming in a better-suited attire but we just left the meeting and we didn’t wish to arrive late.”

Bilbo blinked at him in surprise. “You’re surely referring to a different meeting, the one I was in was almost eight hours ago.”

“The very same.” Replied Dwalin. “It’s been a while since a meeting went for some long but the old rocks wouldn't shut their traps.”

“And it was a very important meeting.” Added Balin, giving Dwalin the stinky eye, to which he simply rolled his eyes. Balin then looked at Bilbo, who was still trying to come to terms with the idea that the dwarves had been on a meeting for eight whole hours, and said, “You left quite the impression, Master Baggins.”

Ah. Back to surnames, it seemed.

Bilbo wasn’t surprised, not after what had happened and didn’t feel particularly inclined to ask Balin to call him more familiarly. Bilbo wasn’t going to stay around much longer, either way, there was no point in getting overly friendly with the dwarves, especially when they didn't seem keen on fulfilling their part of the deal.

Bilbo snorted, with an unamused smile on his face. “I can well imagine. Doubt anyone has ever told them the ugly truths to their faces.” He headed for the kitchen, both dwarves following after him, and began taking out more ingredients to finish making his dinner. 

It was good Bilbo liked to plan his meals ahead of time and despite the boys having eaten the scones he had planned to have for tea, they hadn’t managed to eat the cookies. Bilbo put them on the counter in front of the dwarves for them to munch on while Bilbo cooked. He pulled out flour — yes, some pancakes would be nice. He took out more of the sausages and potatoes he had been meaning to have. 

They mostly watched in silence as Bilbo cooked their meal, a few compliments were thrown his way after they tasted the cookies, and while on another occasion that would have made Bilbo’s chest puff with pride, now it just made him focus on the fact that once again the dwarves had understatement another thing about him. He was being unfair to them, Bilbo was fully aware, but you will have to forgive him for feeling entitled to a little bit of pettiness. So he sent them his thanks and kept on cooking until everything was done to perfection.

“You’re one of a kind, lad.” Said Dwalin as he bit into one fat sausage. 

“I suppose.” Answered Bilbo, warily, not quite sure where Dwalin was going with that comment.

“We didn’t expect this when you came, Tharkûn- Gandalf,” Dwalin corrected himself when Bilbo gave him a confused look, “told us we had to be patient and careful with hobbits because you were skittish creatures, that rarely left your lands.”

Bilbo frowned. So Gandalf had been in Ered Luin as well. Bilbo, absently, wondered what else he had told them. “That’s true to some degree, and if it had been normal circumstances I doubt I would have been persuaded to leave the Shire, but these are not normal circumstances and as  _ frail _ and small as we may look we hobbits are strong on our very core. The wandering days might be a thing of the past but we haven’t forgotten our roots. We’re the children of Yavanna and we’re not going to let this be the end our race.” Bilbo explained to them, his face hard and severe.

“Yes, that.” Began Balin, rubbing his hands together and had Bilbo knew him better he would assure that the dwarf was  _ nervous _ , of all things. “It’s not the first time you have mentioned these aforementioned  _ circumstances _ . May I ask what they are? They seem dire enough but we don’t understand what they have to do with the treaty.”

Bilbo blinked twice in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

“What do  _ you _ mean? We are unsure about what you’re talking about, Bilbo.” Balin explained, looking even more confused than Bilbo, if possible.

Bilbo lowered his fork. “I’m talking about the Long winter, obviously.” 

“Is it serious?” Asked Dwalin, stuffing the rest of his pancake inside his mouth.

“Is it- I-” Bilbo sputtered, he looked at the two dwarves, both looking curiously at Bilbo. So not a joke then. They seriously had no idea about what Bilbo was speaking of. “We’re speaking of the possible doom of my race. I would say it’s plenty serious.” 

“Then why are you here, laddie? You should be helping your people! Why did your king even wrote to us when you’re more troubled than us?!” Dwalin shouted.

“Oh, for Yavanna’s sake!” Bilbo lamented, hiding his face between his hands. “That’s why I’m here! Did you or did you not talk with the Thain about this? It’s the main reason we reached to you. Gandalf told us it would be a good and convenient exchange, it’s a pity he failed to explain how stubborn or prideful dwarves would be.” Bilbo mumbled the last part.

“We talked to your Thain but it was mainly about what your farmers could offer us. He did mention there were some requirements and that we would need to go to your aid in battle when needed but he explicitly said that the finer points of it would be discussed with you. So no, laddie, he didn’t tell us about your situation.” Said Balin, a worried frown on his face.

Bilbo let out a disbelieving sigh. “I’m going to kill my grandfather.” Bilbo was trembling with ire. “And Gandalf for that matter. This is all his fault. Oh, bother it all! They have ruined all!” Bilbo threw his hands in the air. “Our only chance of surviving.” Bilbo got up and started pacing around the kitchen. “No, no. This my own fault. I was clouded by anger and fear and lashed out without knowing the whole story. Oh, dears! You have truly done it now, Bilbo Baggins, dad would be so disappointed...” 

“Master Baggi-” Said Balin, but Bilbo didn’t hear him.

He kept pacing and muttering to himself, one thing worse than the other, and it wasn’t until Dwalin caught him by the shoulders that and bellowed his name that Bilbo noticed them talking to him. 

“Bilbo! Calm down, lad. Ye haven’t ruined anything. Far from it actually, you made quite the impression with the council.” Dwalin said.

“I did?”

“Aye, As you said before, this is the first time someone has dared to talk to them like that. It was far due if you ask me.” Said Balin, winking at Bilbo and giving him a slightly amused smile. “Now lad, why don’t you explain to us what is actually going on?”

And so Bilbo did. He explained in as much detail as he could. He talked about the Long Winter, the utter and heart-wrenching desperation the mere mention of it brought to hobbits. He told them how this winter — according to Gandalf — was bound to bring the same destruction upon them, the same despair and death, that it was why because they had reached out to the dwarves of Ered Luin, that that was the reason Bilbo had so rudely screamed at the council. 

“By Mahal...” Mumbled Balin. His face was as white as his hair and Dwalin wasn't faring much better than his brother. 

“We have to go.” Said Dwalin at last, getting up. 

Bilbo looked alarmed as he noticed Balin getting up as well. “Go? Go where? You’re leaving?” 

“We must inform Thorin of this, lad, we can’t let this misunderstanding go on. The sooner we talk to him the faster all of this will be resolved and the meetings will continue.” Explained Balin. 

“I should go talk to him. This is for me to explain.” Said, Bilbo. He was far from ready to face Thorin again, let alone talk to him and pretend to not know him, but he had to do this. It was his mistake to fix, not Balin’s or Dwalin’s. 

“Nay. It’s better if we do it. Thorin is a good king but he tends to be biased towards outsiders. If you go he might suspect yer trying to fool him.” Dwalin grunted. He didn’t seem that keen on talking to Thorin either…

“You’ll be able to talk to him tomorrow. He’ll most likely ask to speak to you and then you can explain fully what truly happened.” Bilbo let out a frustrated sigh at Balin’s words. “It’s better this way, Bilbo. Trust us.” Balin patted him on the shoulder and Dwalin nodded at him, and with that as their goodbye, they left Bilbo’s rooms.

Bilbo stood there for a few seconds not sure how things had turned quite like that. He ought to be glad, this meant he might yet still have hope to amend his relationship with the court and the king. 

The king…

No. Bilbo shook his head, there was no time to think about that. He now just had to wait and trust that Balin had been right and that Thorin would be willing to listen, depending on the outcome Bilbo would decide what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok don't kill me. I know what it looks like but I promise you Thorin is not a jerk. You have to remember this is from Bilbo's limited, biased pov and not everything is what it seems. 
> 
> You don't have to worry tho, all will get explained at one point, furthermore, I plan to write a couple of chapters from Thorin's pov so look out for that, everything will make much more sense after that, I promise.


	4. PATH 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some bagginshield moments! I know you all have been waiting for this, I sure have!  
> But before that, I bring some not so good new, I'm not sure yet if I'll be able to post the next chapter in time, things are a little hectic rn and I also wanted to write a few more chapters in advance before posting the next one, so there's a chance you might not get the next update until the ending of august or so, I hope you understand. ♥️
> 
> On that note, I also bring you some good news! 👀 I posted a bagginshield soulmate au one-shot a couple of days ago so while you wait for the next chapter you can go read that if you want! You can read it [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828675) ♥️
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

To say that Bilbo was getting tired of how little sleep he was getting due to the whole ordeal with the dwarves would be an understatement. After Dwalin and Balin had left he had to rewrite all his letters, this time making sure to direct all his anger towards his grandfather and The Elders — just in case they were also aware of the issue at hand. 

See? This was why he didn’t want to leave the Shire. As interesting and exciting was going on trips outside the comfort of his smial the stress and anxiety it brought wasn’t much worth it. 

Stress was not good for Bilbo.

Perhaps he was getting old. He couldn’t quite remember feeling this out of place and high strung ever in his life. Granted, he had never been in a situation like the one he was experiencing, but still…

At this point, if things didn’t get fixed Bilbo was ready to beat some sense into the stubborn dwarves, King included. He was tired of being afraid of saying the wrong thing and screwing it all up. Bilbo just wanted to talk to Thorin again to at least know where he stood. He didn’t even have it in himself to care about what feelings Thorin’s presence might bring out. The only thing Bilbo felt at the moment was cranky. Sue him, he liked to sleep. All hobbits did, to a certain degree. 

As selfish as it sounded Bilbo just wanted to go back home and forget about all the bad things that would come on the near future. 

Bilbo sighed, as he turned in the bed. He had already had second breakfast and was currently trying to take a nap, quite unsuccessfully, he might add.

Perhaps he ought to have a day for himself, maybe a full day of relaxation would be enough to get him back into action. 

As Bilbo let that thought settle, images of the fauntlings, his family and friends back in the Shire flashed in his mind.

No, no.

Even if he wanted and had the time he doubted he could actually forget everything that was happening.

Bilbo had to push through. 

He had to be a bit more like his mother and less like his father.

_ Go beyond your limits… _

It was something Belladonna always used to say and something she had made sure to drill into Bilbo’s tiny mind since he could make a cohesive sentence. Belladonna’s self-overcoming views were something rare in the Shire and sometimes mocked by The Elders. Bilbo disagreed though. Belladonna had been the bravest, kindest and strongest person Bilbo had ever known. Since he was nothing more than a sapling he had aspired to become like her.

And now that he finally had the chance to prove himself that he wasn’t as much of a coward as he always thought, he was doing nothing more than whining like a babe for a couple of sleepless nights. 

Bilbo sat up and watched his messy feet, hair tangled and pointing all over the place. Just like himself…

No. He couldn’t give up just after a tumultuous meeting. 

It was expected, Bilbo shouldn’t be so surprised about it. He knew this was a possibility and yet had stupidly thought everything would go smoothly. 

The true stupidity, though, was not thinking of a back-up plan in case things turned awry. It was too late for that now and Bilbo would simply have to work with what he had. 

He couldn’t afford to throw tantrums and dwell in self-pity. As much as he would have liked to forget everything, winter was a few months away and his people depended on him. This wasn’t just about him. Now, out of all times, he couldn’t afford to be selfish. 

With that in mind, he got up and started to get ready. 

If Thorin wouldn’t come to him then Bilbo would have to go to him.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


This was a bad idea…

Maybe he could just wait until after lunch to go search for him.

Now that he was finally ready, clean and presentable Bilbo felt reluctant to leave. He felt as if he would throw up his heart at any moment. 

No, no, no. Bilbo shook his head. He couldn’t let fear rule his life. 

It was now or never. 

With a last glance around the rooms, he took a deep breath and picked up the documents he thought might be useful for his impromptu meeting with the king. 

Bilbo opened the door, pushing it with all his strength. He still couldn't understand why they were so heavy — who made doors out of solid stone? Dwarves, that’s who — and the fact that it opened out was simply odd, he could easily hit som-

As those thoughts circulated Bilbo’s anxious mind he heard a sickening crunch and a grunt, followed by a loud thud. 

_ Oh no.  _

Bilbo hurried and ran around the door to look at the unlucky dwarf he had just hit, all life leaving his body the moment he saw Thorin bent over, one hand on the floor, clutching at his bleeding nose.

Blessed all-seeing Yavanna...

“Oh no. Oh, dear. I- I’m so sorry. How could this happen? Of all the-” Bilbo muttered in fright as he approached Thorin. He lay his hand on Thorin’s back and let his other hand hover awkwardly around Thorin’s face, not quite sure how to help. “Are you alright? Oh, of course, you aren’t. What I’m even asking.”

“I’m fine, B- Master Baggins.” Replied Thorin with a grunt. 

“Oh dear, there’s so much blood.” Bilbo fretted, taking out his handkerchief and pressing it against Thorin’s nose. “Come inside, please.”

“You seemed in a hurry, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Thorin said, his voice muffled and sounding slightly congested.

“I was actually looking for you so this is perfect- No, I mean, of course it’s not perfect since you got hurt and I didn’t mean-” Bilbo sighed, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Please, just come in.” 

Thorin politely didn’t comment on Bilbo’s strange habit of rambling, for which he was thankful. 

He made the dwarf sit on a kitchen chair and run to grab a towel and a basin full of cool water. 

Bilbo kneeled in front of Thorin and began cleaning the blood that was freely running down his face, his handkerchief having done very little to soak it up. 

Bilbo stood up and cupped the side of Thorin's face with his hand, drawing near to assess the damage. “I’m so sorry. Does it hurt too much?” He asked as he prodded around the slightly swollen bridge of his nose. 

“I’m fine Master Baggins, I have had far worse than a bump on the nose.” Thorin insisted but the hiss he let out when Bilbo pressed too hard proved he wasn't faring as good as he kept saying.

“Hold this until it stops bleeding, I’m going to make you a tea for the pain and I have an ointment that will help with the swelling,” Bilbo quickly explained as he handed Thorin the towel.

Bilbo bit his lip in mortification as he ran towards the sink, filling the kettle. 

He sort wanted to die a little bit, of all the things that could have happened...

By Yavanna. How embarrassing, slamming Thorin’s face with the door…

This couldn’t have gone worse... At least the dwarf didn’t appear to be angry at him, certainly not in such a horrible mood as the day before. That was a good sign, Bilbo was sure, even if he felt horrible for injuring Thorin. But it was okay, well perhaps not  _ okay _ , but it would be, now he just had to make sure to do a decent job in healing him, Bilbo tried to reassure himself as he did his best to quell the panic that came with the stray thought that he might have ruined things even further.

He tried to focus on other things. Like the memory of the feel of Thorin’s lush beard against his fingertips. Bilbo felt his cheeks warm at the memory, it was still as soft as he remembered it, never mind that now it seemed fuller and longer than when they had met for the first time.

He shook his head to push the memories away. 

Bilbo might as he tried couldn’t manage to let a single word out of his mouth. So, in the end, he prepared the tea in silence, trying as hard as he could to dissociate the sweet Thorin from his memories from the bleeding dwarf sitting a few feet away from him. The boiling kettle and a few of Thorin’s muffled grunts as his only companions.

"I honestly wasn't expecting anyone on the other side of the door." Bilbo finally managed to say.

Thorin simply hummed in acknowledgement. "It's not your fault, the door is quite heavy and opens outwards."

Bilbo huffed, his back still turned. "Yes, that. Why? I mean to say, you could have them made from anything else. For a moment I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to open it."

"For security reasons," Thorin explained, voice muffled under the towel. "If someone enters it's impossible to not hear it and if you catch intruders you can push them with the door and stall them enough time to do something else like escape or fight." 

"Intruders?! Why would intruders come?!" Asked Bilbo, scandalised, turning to look in bafflement at Thorin.

"For many reasons, assassination attempts, robbery…" The dwarf answered. "Our kingdoms are not as peaceful and prosperous as The Shire, to be honest, I doubt there's a place that's as peaceful as where you come from, Master Baggins." Thorin pointed out.

"I see. Yes, you're right. The Shire is a place untouched by evil. Or course we have our own problems but they hardly compare to those of the other parts of Arda." Bilbo admitted. After a little thought, he added, his face scrunching in distaste, "although I must admit I'm familiar with trespassers." 

“Oh?” Thorin said, looking at Bilbo in interest.

“Yes. I have a relative. She likes my smial- my house,” clarified Bilbo. “She keeps pestering me about giving it to her. She believes she has any right to it. As if!” Bilbo huffed, the simple mention of Lobelia making him feel irritated. “It’s all pesky family affairs and everyone, all the way to Bree, knows she holds no right over my house, still, she’s relentless. One time I even caught her with her pocket full of my spoons. Can you believe it? The cheek!”

“She sounds quite troublesome,” Thorin said with a slightly amused smile and a look that made Bilbo pause. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it but he could have sworn that the dwarf was looking at Bilbo fondly, as if the story of his dreaded cousin was enough to make him find Bilbo  _ endearing, _ or something similar.

No, no. It couldn't be. Bilbo was simply seeing things where there was nothing. 

“I- Yes, she’s very troublesome but well, you can’t choose your family,” Bilbo said with a nervous smile. 

“Indeed.” Said Thorin, his expression closing off once again. He took his eyes away from Bilbo and got back to try to clean himself properly. 

Bilbo sighed and turned his back again. He was just being silly, it didn’t mean anything. He was simply being wistful. Bilbo had to stop his strange behaviour in front of the King, it was clearly bothering him and Bilbo didn’t need another reason more to be at odds with the dwarven king.

Those thoughts were enough to sober him up, he hurried to finish his task and did it in a stilled silence, neither he nor Thorin said a word.

Tea prepared and ointment in hand he turned back towards Thorin who was trying to clean his face as best as he could. The bleeding finally having stopped. 

Quite frankly he looked like a sorry mess. 

Bilbo had done quite a number on him.

His beard and hair were caked in blood and his robes were most likely ruined. 

“I’m going to fetch another towel.” Announced Bilbo, already making his way towards the closet of his bedroom, making a detour towards the kitchen sink to wet the towel.

When he got back Thorin extended his arm, requesting the damp towel. 

“Let me.” Said Bilbo, instead, making his way towards Thorin. 

The dwarf looked like he wanted to protest but in the end, he didn’t say anything and simply raised his head slightly and parted his legs to give Bilbo space.

Bilbo drew closer, cupping Thorin's face with one hand and tilting it up to then start cleaning out the blood from his face. He began from his right cheekbone and made his way downwards, avoiding his bruised nose for the time being. Bilbo worked in silence, taking his time cleaning his beard — and feeling infinitely grateful that Thorin had decided to close his eyes. Bilbo was as enraptured with his beard as he remembered having been when he met Thorin for the first time. The memories brought a small sigh out of him, but it was enough to make him refocus on his task. 

He ought to stop thinking of the past. It was clear Thorin didn't remember and while he wasn't being hostile he was far from being the dwarf Bilbo had met. Now he just had to focus on making the deal with the dwarves and perhaps when all is said and done Bilbo might be brave enough to try and become friends with the king once again. Anything more was… Well, it was clearly out of question. Bilbo had no business falling for a king.

With those thoughts in mind, he started cleaning the dwarf's nose, making sure to be as gentle as possible. 

Although he must have not been the most gentle because the poor dwarf let out a yelp when Bilbo brushed the bridge of his nose with the towel. 

Bilbo took a step back and was about to apologize once away when a hand curled around his hip, preventing him from moving away. Bilbo looked down and saw Thorin’s big hand placed firmly on his hip, and it took all of Bilbo’s self-restraint to not blush like a virgin maiden who had just been touched for the first time. 

“I’m alright. Please, continue. I assure you it’s not as bad as it looks.” Thorin suddenly said, his blue eyes fixed on Bilbo, pinning him down with the strength of his stare. 

Bilbo could hardly breathe, being so close to Thorin was making feelings he had buried for so long suddenly rush forward, he just hoped it wasn’t so obvious to the dwarf. 

“Alright.” Bilbo simply answered and got back to his task, his hands trembling slightly as he cleaned the remnants of blood. All the while Thorin’s hand still planted on his hip and his blue piercing eyes focused on him.

It felt so utterly familiar that for a moment Bilbo could have forgotten everything that had happened since they had split paths. Bilbo could close his eyes and pretend they were still in the Shire and that this dwarf, who was holding Bilbo firmly but gently was the same one that had stolen his heart so long ago. 

But that wasn’t the case, they weren’t in the Shire and while this Thorin didn’t seem as different as the one he had met long ago, that didn’t mean they were the same. This Thorin was a Thorin Bilbo didn’t know, a Thorin he hadn’t even been aware existed. 

It hurt, knowing that something that had meant so much to him had been nothing worthy to remember for the dwarf. It hadn’t been enough to make Thorin come back to him, let alone let him know that he was more than a travelling blacksmith. 

Those sobering thoughts were enough to give Bilbo the strength to pull back, his task completed. He tried to ignore the way Thorin’s hand — the one that had been holding him so sweetly — hovered in the air, as if unwilling to let Bilbo go from his side. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Thorin had no right to act as if he wanted Bilbo by his side when he couldn’t even be bothered to remember him. 

But to be perfectly truthful the unfair one here was Bilbo, it wasn't normal, feeling this attached to someone he had been together for nothing more than three days. Of course Thorin had no business telling a strange hobbit that had found him on the woods that he was a king. It would be foolish. And Bilbo had no business feeling as bitter as he did at having been lied to, and yet he still did. At the very least he could make sure to not blame or push his convoluted feelings to the dwarf.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more. You should go see a proper healer after this, and sorry about your robes. Here, you can put this salve where you feel most of the pain, it will help with the bruising and the pain.” Bilbo spoke, more subdued and calm than he had been since Thorin had appeared, quickly passing the small jar of soft yellow salve. 

“It’s not your fault Master Baggins. I shouldn’t have been hovering around your rooms like a vulture.” Thorin contradicted him, muttering the last sentence as he smeared a dollop of the buttery substance on the side of his nose and spread it messily with a grimace.

“I see.” Bilbo simply said, distracted as he watched the mess Thorin was making all over his face. With a tired sigh, he approached Thorin again and took the jar from him and began spreading the salve evenly around his nose and under his eyes, to make sure the area didn’t bruise and the dwarf didn’t end up with his face black and blue. He tried his best to not look at the dwarf’s eyes, keeping his eyes pointedly on his nose. Tired of the stilled silence he awkwardly asked, “did you need anything? I- Well, I was actually on my way to find you. I wanted to speak with you. Balin told me you would send someone to come for me but I got anxious of waiting so I decided to go to you myself.” 

“I came for that very same reason. Mostly to apologize in person for my uncouth behaviour from yesterday.” Thorin began explaining, he took Bilbo’s hand from his face and gave it a light squeeze, and said, as he met Bilbo’s eyes straight on. “I’m truly sorry for my behaviour. Balin and Dwalin explained everything to me, and even before that, I had planned to talk with you. Your words back at the meeting room left quite the impression.” Thorin lowered his head and looked at his feet, a frow of regret on his brown. “You were right. We have left our stubbornness to get in the way this pact, and for that, I deeply apologize.” Thorin suddenly got up and ended one breath of distance away from Bilbo, he took a small step backwards, almost knocking the chair over, the dwarf then cleared his throat and added, “now, you must understand we were not aware of the Shire needing help. Your grandfather mentioned vaguely some sort of way to pay the Shire back for the food offered but we all thought the deal had been offered out of pity and due to Gandalf’s intervention. We weren’t aware this was a mutually beneficial pact.”

“So I have been told” Bilbo muttered, still as angry at his grandfather, as he had been before. “Balin explained yesterday,” Bilbo added, at Thorin’s confused look. “I think we both have been played here, mostly by Gandalf I would say. I wasn’t aware you didn’t know any of this. I suppose this is also my fault, to a certain degree. When I was briefed on the treaty arrangements and conditions I mainly focused on being sure about the finer points of our part of the deal. The Thain informed me of what The Shire would need from you but told me no more, mostly because I’m aware, better than anyone of what we need. At the time I didn’t pay it any mind but now I see that I should have. I’m truly sorry, King Thorin.” Bilbo said, his tone serious and slightly defeated.

He had been foolish, thinking things would go smoothly, thinking that he would one go as a messenger and nothing more. That the deal was pretty much done and the only thing left was his presence to confirm it all. 

It was far from the truth and while Bilbo wouldn’t have to start the negotiations from scratch, it now proved to be much more complicated than if it had. If he was lucky to be able to arrange more meetings to talk about the treaty, it was going to be tedious and long. Bilbo doubted the dwarves would sit quietly and simply forget that not only Gandalf but also the Thain — the very same person they were trying to form an alliance with — had pretty much fooled and deceived them by omission. 

“As it appears both of us want for this to work. The council is not happy and it will take far longer than I expected but if you are willing we can star renegotiating the clauses of the treaty and try to reach a consensus we’re both happy with. You have my word you’ll be treated with respect while you stay here.” Thorin said, looking more cheerful than Bilbo had ever seen him since he had arrived.

Bilbo blinked, his shoulders sagging in relief. That- That was much better than he had hoped...

Yes, he could work with that.

“I would really like that, your majesty.” For the first time in what felt like ages, Bilbo could smile sincerely.

Thorin grimaced at that and said, “please just call me Thorin. From now on we’re equals Master Baggins. I would like you to address me as such.” Thorin smiled at him, a smile that was entirely similar to the ones he had given Bilbo in the past.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. This Thorin still felt like a stranger to him but Bilbo was beginning to think that perhaps, they weren’t that different, and for the first time since he had arrived Bilbo felt the resentment and sense of betrayal, he had been feeling since he had met Thorin again, uncoiled from his heart.

“Then you should call me Bilbo.” 

“Very well... Bilbo.” Thorin said, the low sound of his voice making Bilbo’s back tickle in exhilaration. “I actually came for another reason, as well.” At Bilbo’s inquiring gaze he added. “I wanted to take you around the city. I thought it would be a good idea so you know your way around it without the need of an escort and also so that my kin can see you and feel more at ease. My people are not used to outsiders so your arrival has made them a tad tense.” Thorin added, slightly apologetic, most likely aware of the harsh treatment Bilbo had gotten from the dwarves.

“Oh. I would really like that. I actually had a few letters I wanted to send, if that’s alright.” Explained Bilbo. “And don’t worry, I understand. We’re not too keen on outsiders back in the Shire either. Gandalf is a friend of the Thain and most hobbits are still wary of him, there’s many that outright dislike him and try to make him get lost on the Old Forest.” Bilbo added with a chuckle, the outright disdain some hobbits held for Gandalf would never stop being funny for Bilbo. His father had been among those, after all.

Thorin let out a surprised laugh. “It’s hard to imagine gentlefolk, like hobbits are rumoured to be, being so vicious but I can hardly blame them if we could we would have banned the entrance of that wizard a long time ago, more often than not he only brings trouble with him. And don’t worry about the letters we can go to the aviary first.”

“Thank you, and I’ll have you know that we hobbits hold grudges like nobody’s business. Our kind of revenge is mostly given in the form of petty annoyance and all that comes with it, we would hardly harm seriously each other but it can get slightly out of hand. Sending Gandalf to the Old Forest is not the worst thing they could do. For other races, it could be dangerous since the Old Forest is quite hostile but for us hobbits — as long as you have a good heart and good intentions, it’s harmless. For Gandalf being a wizard and all, it means it takes him another day to make his way to the Shire.”

Thorin smiled in amusement. “I suppose I should be careful then. I think me and my kin won’t underestimate hobbits again, you have shown us that you have a spine as strong as mithril and temper to match the stubbornest of the dwarves.”

“Ah, yes. Sorry about that.” Bilbo said sheepishly, his cheeks colouring red in embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize, those traits will be valued by the council, here. It means you can stand your ground against them and that is something even the most prejudiced dwarf can respect.” Thorin explained, not unkindly. “Now I should take these stained robes before we go, I don’t want to scare my people or the guards and make them think something happened.” He began taking out his outer robes and laying them on top of the chair. After a moment of hesitance, Thorin glanced at Bilbo and asked. “Does it look bad? My nose, I mean,” he explained when Bilbo tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh! Not as bad as I thought it would look, it’s slightly purple around the bridge of your nose and here,” Bilbo said brushing his index finger against the left side of his nose. He quickly drew back. “But it’s not swollen and I’m sure that from afar you might not even notice it.” He quickly added. “Here, look for yourself,” Bilbo said as he trusted the small mirror he carried around in his pocket, into Thorin’s hands.

Thorin checked himself over, turning his head from side to side and then nodded, seemingly content with what he had seen. “I’ve gotten worse sparring with Dwalin, I doubt anyone will bat an eye at this.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin fixed the rest of his clothes, taking off everything that looked slightly stained, leaving him only wearing a pair of dark trousers and a navy coloured shirt. It looked quite fetching on him and it made him look more approachable, making Bilbo relax involuntarily. 

Bilbo, suddenly feeling overdressed in his burgundy coat, decided to take it off. His waistcoat would be more than enough.

“You can wear your coat if you want,” Thorin said amused.

“No, no. It’s quite alright.” Bilbo insisted.

Thorin cracked a smile and Bilbo couldn't stop himself from doing the same. “Very well then. Shall we go? I’ll introduce you to the ravens.” 

Thorin headed towards the door and opened it slowly, most likely trying to be careful to not make the same mistake as Bilbo. Meanwhile, Bilbo had faltered on his step. 

Ravens?

It was odd, the way Thorin had phrased it; as if the birds were relatives Bilbo had to acquaint with. Well, he would have to check it as another oddity of the dwarves. He doubted Thorin had meant it in the literal sense, after all, it wasn’t as if the ravens could talk back to Bilbo, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly laughed more than I should have at making Bilbo hit Thorin with a stone door. I'm not even sorry, on the first draft Thorin actually got his nose broken but that would have messed up my upcoming plans so he ended up with just a slightly bruised one. Can't have them cut their date - not date- short for a very painful broken nose, can we?  
> Also, Bilbo and Thorin bonding over trashing Gandalf? More likely than you think.
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked the chapter and laughed as much as me at Bilbo's horrible luck. 😂


	5. PATH 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo finally go to their not date. Also, R A V E N S!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million sorries for the delay. Can't believe it too me almost a month to update this one. I finally finished the outline of the entire story so I now know for sure what's going to happen on each chapter and as you can see the chapter count has risen, like more than double than before akjdskjdk so it's going to be a long ride. Since my chapters are around 4k-5k I wager the finished fic will be around 150k long, longest fic I have ever decided to write lol, I'm kinda nervous. 😂
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the comments and kudos! I really appreciated them, you're all very sweet! ♥️♥️♥️

They made their way to the aviary, and as it turns out that’s where they kept the raven…

The taking raven... 

The talking raven that...that delivered letters…

Bilbo was not sure if his heart had just hit the limit to surprises it could take in such a short time and had decided to go on lockdown for the rest of the day, or if he had perhaps become immune to any of the nonsense dwarves keep pulling off. 

In hindsight, this was the least surprising thing Bilbo had heard so far. He knew dwarves had been blessed with magic in their blood in a similar way hobbits had. So if hobbits could talk to the Ents surely there was nothing odd with dwarves using talking ravens as their messengers. Yes, Bilbo decided, this is the only thing that made sense since he had arrived.

The aviary was enormous, the whole tower a giant nest for the ravens. With the exceptions of a few doors on the ground floor it seemed the rest of the tower was destined to house hundreds of ravens. Bilbo watched in awe at the myriad of nests, resting safely in something akin to stone shelves. He saw ravens of all sizes flying around and while the smell wasn’t all that pleasant the sight more than made up for it.

As they ascended towards the top of the tower — where the letters were dropped off — Bilbo curiously peered at the nests he found closest, taking notice of the little tinklers and shiny stones all seemed to have.

“Those are selenite crystals. They abound in our mines and since they don’t hold much value we give them to the ravens for their nests. They treasure them greatly.” Thorin explained, pointing at the clear and shiny crystals that lay hidden in the nests.

“They’re well-loved here- The ravens, I mean,” clarified Bilbo at Thorin’s confused frown.

“Ah, yes. Here, they’re greatly valued. For us, they mean prosperity and can make great companions, fiercely loyal. Ravens have magic on them, similar to ours,” Thorin said with a pleased nod, then he added with a slight sneer, “nothing like at all of what Men like to spew about them.”

“Well, Men understand very little of that. They only see what they want and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.” Bilbo commented, huffing under his breath.

“Am I safe to presume you don’t hold the same prejudices against Raven then?” Thorin asked, amusement clear in his voice. “For some reason I expected hobbits to be keener on Men than in other races.”

“That must be because everyone seems to believe we originated from Men, even them.” Bilbo snorted in distaste. “That’s far from the truth. Our Maker is Yavanna. That’s why we dislike the word ‘halfling’ so much. It’s a slur for us. The worst insult you could throw at a hobbit. We’re our own people and not sort of the 'leftovers' of Men." Bilbo sneered in distaste as he said the word. "Yavanna loves us and she gifted us with many things. I can assure you none of that came from the Men.” 

“Yavanna...” Thorin said, pensively. “That’s Mahal’s wife.” The dwarf exclaimed in wonder.

“Ah, yes. So as you can see dwarves and hobbits are more similar than Men and us would ever be.” Bilbo affirmed puffing his chest and rocking on his feet in satisfaction.

It wasn’t that Bilbo hated Men, not at all! It simply irked him a tad how they would behave around them from time to time. They were all used to it but that didn’t mean they liked it. In the end, when it came down to it, hobbits were more secluded than dwarves and while they weren’t hostile they hardly appreciated outsiders, Big Folk in particular. 

Thorin didn’t say anything at that but was left with a thoughtful look on his eyes for the remainder of the way.

Bilbo managed to drop his letters directed to his grandfather — making sure to add a rude note to make sure his anger reached Gerontius — and another to Rorimac, as he had promised he would do. Thorin told him the letters would reach their destination within the next three days and that the ravens tasked with the letters would wait for a response.

The dwarf that had received them was old but had a kind aura around him, making Bilbo relax, pleased to know that not all dwarves were against his arrival.

“Would you like to meet the ravens before we leave?” Asked Thorin, when he caught Bilbo looking at the chicks.

“Can I?” Bilbo asked, looking excited. The adult ravens were certainly big and slightly intimidating but Bilbo’s curious nature overrode his caution. Besides, he doubted Thorin would let them attack him.

“Certainly. Come this way,” Thorin said, a faint smile on his lips, gesturing Bilbo towards a door he hadn’t previously noticed.

Bilbo followed him and they entered another room, this one full of raves as well, but there wasn’t any nest in there. Instead, there was some sort of platforms where the ravens mingled, these ones were much larger than those in the main room and Bilbo had to muffle a yelp when one flew close enough to ruffle his hair. Feeling a bit faint, Bilbo noticed that one of its wings — fully spread — was longer than Bilbo’s forearm. 

A young lass — or Bilbo thought she was young but with the beards, it was difficult to be certain — was tying a letter to the little straps all the ravens in the room seemed to be wearing, something the ones he had seen before weren't. It was strange, as it seemed to crisscross across the bird’s bodies without interfering with their flying. Bilbo wanted to go and take a closer look but didn’t really dare to. The gigantic size of the ravens making him inch closer to Thorin.

“Why are they so big?” Wondered Bilbo out loud.

“Those are fully grown and trained ravens. These here are the primal messengers, and can go longer distances due to their sizes and experience.” Thorin explained, walking towards the lass that was sending off ravens with their precious cargo. “Our ravens, much like us, live very long lives and as they grow older they get bigger and stronger.”

The lass finally took notice of them but didn’t make much of a reaction, simply bowing curtly at Thorin and not even bothering to glance at Bilbo.

Bilbo frowned, feeling once again brutally out of place.

“Don’t hold it against her, it’s nothing personal, Master Baggins Drarna’s like that with everyone. I’m certain that the only reason she even greets me is that I’m the King. She doesn’t like people very much, but she’s a nice lass.” Thorin said softly in a quiet voice, most likely after noticing Bilbo's put-out expression.

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat and felt slightly bashful at the realization Thorin could read him like an open book.

It wasn’t fair. Not at all, when Bilbo could hardly read Thorin’s expressions, let alone what he might be thinking in that stone-head of his.

“Come, I have someone I want you to meet,” Thorin said, motioning Bilbo towards the far corner of the room.

Bilbo followed, eyeing closely at the ravens that haven’t stopped looking at Bilbo since he had stepped foot inside the room. Gone was the fondness he had felt when he had seen the baby chicks and the smaller raven. These ones here looked strong enough to tear Bilbo to ribbons if they wanted. 

“Almost all the ravens here can speak, but not many know Westron as we seldom send letters to another race that’s not our own,” Thorin explained as he stopped in front of a raven, it’s back turned towards them, too busy grooming a smaller one.

“Roäc, I brought someone to meet you,” Thorin spoke. When the raven didn’t make a move or any sign of having heard Thorin, the dwarf huffed testily. “This is important, you can groom your mate later.” Thorin insisters glaring at the raven.

If it wasn't for the possibility of said raven clawing Bilbo’s eyes out for having interrupted it and it’s mate, Bilbo might have laughed at the image of Thorin arguing with a bird. But that possibility was very present in Bilbo’s mind so he simply shut up and waited, looking at the raven warily — ready to offer Thorin as a sacrifice if it decided to attack them.

The raven didn’t turn and Thorin sighed as he walked closer to it. Bilbo suddenly stopped him, the dwarf turned at him, looking confused.

“Thorin, maybe this is not a good idea, perhaps we ought to leave them alo-” Bilbo began saying but before he could finish his sentence a croak was heard and Bilbo turned to look at the birds.

The raven Thorin had been bothering promptly turned around and croaked, “He’s tiny,” looking at Bilbo and if Bilbo had been asked he would have sworn the bird was laughing at him.

Bilbo stood there, eyes bulging and his fist tight around the hem of Thorin’s sleeve. Knowing that raven could talk and actually listening to him was something completely different. 

Bilbo wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it still was odd, seeing a bird make human noises. It sounded croaky and slightly broken but it was clear enough to understand what it was saying.

“Don’t be rude Roäc,” chastised Thorin. “He’s the grandson of the hobbit you have been visiting.”

“Have food?” Croaked the raven, skipping closer towards Bilbo. “Old hobbit always had food.”

Bilbo fumbled to find his words and found himself saying, almost in a daze. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t bring any food...”

The raven — Roäc — let out a loud shrill displeased sound, making Bilbo jump back in surprise.

Thorin huffed and put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder instantly making him feel safer. “I apologize for his rudeness but he’s a good bird. I promise.” Assure the dwarf. “He’s been with me since I was a young lad. We grew up together, and has been a loyal companion during all my years.”

Bilbo blinked surprised at that. That would make the raven incredibly old then. Much more than Bilbo. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how old Thorin was but he was at the very least aware his age was in the three digits…

Thorin turned again towards Roäc and told him, “Bilbo is here as an ambassador and is helping us get more food from the Shire so you and your mate can get enough for the winter, so please aid him whenever he needs to send letters. You’re the only one I can trust in this matter.” Thorin explained, looking serious but his tone was earnest and careful.

Bilbo once again decided to not say anything, realizing what Thorin was doing. He pressed his lips together suppressing an amused smile. 

It was like watching Thorin try to reason with a small but very smart child and Bilbo couldn’t help but find it incredibly amusing.

The raven made considering sound, or at least Bilbo thought he did, but it really sounded more like a hiccup, before saying. “‘Kay, I’ll look after the tiny one. Bring food next time, golden hobbit.” He responded, eyeing Bilbo's hair as he said the last sentence. 

The other raven that had been silent during the whole exchange suddenly flew and perched itself on top of Bilbo’s shoulders. 

Bilbo yelped and hunched, almost falling as he tried to balance the heavy weight of the raven and winced at the prick of sharp claws against his skin. He inhaled sharply as he felt a pointy beak against his hair but willed himself to not move, afraid it might trigger the raven off and it would end up clawing his eyes out.

Slightly dramatic, Bilbo could admit, but still... He was sure it could happen, those gigantic birds looked able enough...

He waited, not even daring to breathe, for the raven to make the next move. Then blinked in astonished silence as he felt the bird  _ nuzzle _ against him, its beak pulling softly and carefully against his hair.

“I like him,” Croaked the raven on top of Bilbo, nuzzling against his neck. “He smells like flowers and bread,” it said. 

Bilbo relaxed slowly and felt very flattered at the words. The raven hadn't even spared Thorin a second glance but instead decided to perch on  _ Bilbo. _ After been deeply rejected by almost all the people in Ered Luin this felt like a win, albeit a slightly scary one at first.

Bilbo tried very hard not to think about the sharp claws that were still digging into his shoulders, instead of thinking of something to say back. He might a bit of a coward but he wasn't rude or impolite, not even with ravens, let alone one who had complimented Bilbo when no one else had, in those lands.

“Thank you. I- I like you too, you’re...” Bilbo trailed off for a moment and craned his neck to look at the raven, meeting bright intelligent eyes, and an incredibly regal-looking bird. “...you’re very beautiful, very majestic,” added Bilbo, dumbly.

The bird made a crooning sound and nuzzled against Bilbo’s face, chirping softly. “You’re ours now,” declared the bird.

Roäc cackled, and Bilbo looked in awe at the raven as he heard, for the first time in his life, a bird laugh. 

Thorin also snorted amusedly and Bilbo turned to look at him, wincing when the other’s raven’s claw dug into his flesh. Thorin was looking at Bilbo in awe, an open expression in his face that made Bilbo’s stomach flutter, but it didn’t last long as when he saw Bilbo flinch when the bird shifted he instantly closed off and walked towards them.

“Megrna, release Bilbo, please. I know you like him but you’re hurting him.” Thorin said, tone urgent and sharp, face hard.

The bird flew again and Bilbo gasped slightly, the punctures he most likely had received stinging sharply against his shoulders.

“Sorry,” the raven-  _ Megrna _ , Bilbo corrected himself — said, landing next to Roäc once again.

“It’s alright, I’m sure it’s nothing more than a few scratches” Bilbo contracted, “just warm me the next time.”

Thorin closed the short distance that separated them and pulled Bilbo shirt slightly to the side, eyeing the wounds. 

Bilbo’s breath stuttered, his heart pounding wildly as he caught the smell of pines and steel coming from Thorin, his warm body pressing against Bilbo’s side. 

Suddenly he was acutely aware of how close they were. Bilbo licked his lips but didn’t move an inch. They had been even closer before, when Bilbo had been treating him, but at the time he had been too preoccupied with his thoughts and Thorin's wound to be too conscious about the closeness. 

Now, though- now Bilbo couldn’t help but crane his neck and look at Thorin, noticing how incredibly handsome he was, even more than what Bilbo remembered — if possible.

He flushed red and bit his lip harder, still not moving and letting Thorin inspect his shoulders, shuddering and muffling a gasp when a fingertip brushed against it.

“It’s more than a few scratches but you ought to be fine. Rewardless, you should clean the punctures before going to bed,” Thorin proclaimed as he drew back and after taking a look at Bilbo most surely flushed face, his eyes widened and took another step back. 

“I apologize,” Thorin said, clearing his throat and refusing to meet Bilbo’s eyes.

“Ah, no- I- It’s okay, thank you,” Bilbo said awkwardly, not looking at Thorin either.

Neither spoke for a short while, Bilbo feeling the tension build in the room and not sure how to do anything.

“You can take this for the wounds,” abruptly said a voice from behind him, making Bilbo jump in fright.

He turned back sharply, finding the lass from before behind him, holding a small jar and offering it to Bilbo.

Bilbo let out shuddering breath and his face flushed again, this time in shame when he realized the girl must have seen everything.

“Thank you,” croaked Bilbo, feeling a little faint.

The lass offered Bilbo a tiny smile, making Bilbo feel slightly better.

“Thank you Drarna. We- we should keep going, Bilbo. We still have many places to be.” Thorin suddenly said. inclining his head towards the girl and turning towards the door, waiting for Bilbo at the exit. 

Bilbo did the same and quickly followed Thorin, too nervous to say anything else.

* * *

It was a pity they had to leave so soon, thought Bilbo. The ravens had finally warmed up to him and as they were leaving, returning once again to the bigger room, some young chicks had braved up enough to approach him, fluttering clumsily around him — but he understood the urgency to leave, and if anything he could always come back on his own.

But he supposed it was for the better. It had gotten slightly uncomfortable after Thorin had gotten so close.

“I’m surprised,” Thorin commented, pulling Bilbo away from his thoughts.

Bilbo hummed at him in confusion.

“You’re the first outside that the ravens have ever taken a liking in. Roäc and Megrna in particular, they are not fond of new people, old as they are, they don’t trust strangers easily. Most of the time Megrna prefers to ignore me, but she declared you as her own and that's high praise. Only those who had spent a lifetime with a raven get that sort of honour.” Thorin explained.

“Oh,” Bilbo simply said, at a loss for words. “I’ll bring them some food next time then...” He reluctantly said, smiling at the memory of Roäc demanding food. “They’re nice.” Bilbo added, “I like them as well. But perhaps that has to be with me being a hobbit. My grandfather told me he got well enough with the raven you sent.”

Thorin sent him a smile and Bilbo felt that that was even more of a gift than the ravens liking him. "I suppose, but I would say that had something more to do with being you than your race."

Bilbo felt like giggling. Absolutely dreadful if you asked him. Thorin had just complimented him and he was behaving like a teen hobbit who's first love had just batter their eyelashes at him.

It was embarrassing how easily Thorin could make him feel so foolish and elated at the same time.

He didn't even dare to think what it would be like if he actually was in love with Thorin.

He would die surely...

They walked out into the open and Bilbo took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of pines and the warmth of the sun on his skin. 

It was a bright day, the sky clear and a pleasant breeze that made their walking much more pleasant. For a moment Bilbo could even forget the odd and suspicious looks he kept getting, simply enjoying all the new sights and smells. 

The more the walked around the city the more Bilbo came to like it. 

It was different, nothing like had ever seen. It wasn’t like the pompous and grand buildings elves like to live in, it didn’t resemble the Shire either. Their houses and pretty much everything was made of hard and unforgiving stone, even the ground was covered by it, the greenery scarce for the exception of the pine forest surrounding half of the city and the odd patch of grass. 

It was odd and he didn't understand very well but Bilbo had seen… He had seen the way dwarves would brush their fingertips against the stone that made their houses and shops, reverently, as if it could tell them something no one else but them understood. 

Bilbo might not agree with their tastes and they might be fundamentally different in almost every aspect but this was their home, and that Bilbo understood. Loving a place and the people that were part of it was something Bilbo could relate in every sense. 

He might be a stranger here and the dwarves might not like him but he knew that in the end, they weren’t all that different. They wanted the same things. Bilbo knew. He had  _ seen _ it. Just by looking at the people, it was enough to see that they were good, normal... Nothing like the tales and stories said about them. They were just people, living their lives as best as they could and doing what they needed to do to see the next day.

Looking around the city gave Bilbo hope and conviction that they could fix things, that they could make things work. This wasn’t the end for either of their races and if Bilbo played his cards correctly it would only be the beginning.

They eventually made it to a magnificent building that could be nothing else than a library. It was like nothing else Bilbo had ever seen before. It rivalled the elven libraries he has seen on books. Thorin opened the door and Bilbo was hit with the pleasant smell of parchment, books and ink.

“This is the library. One of the biggest in all dwarven kingdoms,” explained Thorin, guiding him around it.

Bilbo watched in awe, the ceiling four times his size and the bookshelves almost as high. Dwarves diligently working around them, walking with arms full of books and some — most likely scribes — sitting down in the big tables that were in the middle of the library, furiously writing while other discussed in Khuzdul in hushed voices.

Bilbo had to stop himself numerous times from leaving Thorin to go explore the library on his own. He must have noticed, though, as the dwarf let out an amused chuckle.

“You’re free to visit the library whenever you can. We came for that very reason. Balin thought it would be useful for the negotiations if you could understand our culture better. This is the first time we have let a hobbit here, or anyone who isn’t a child of Mahal.” Thorin added. They turned a corner and headed towards a small room at the far end of the library. “That’s why almost all of our books and scrolls are in khuzdul. For obvious reasons, we can’t teach you the language but Balin’s apprentice has agreed to help you whenever you need help. He’s a very capable translator.” Having said that, Thorin knocked sharply on the door and they heard a faint shuffle before a dwarf opened the door.

He was different from the dwarves he had seen, not particularly big — just a little taller than Bilbo — he looked young and was wearing mittens and a soft-looking cardigan, wearing an equally soft smile on his face. Bilbo wasn’t fooled, though, his eyes told another story. He had the same eyes of a warrior and Bilbo didn’t doubt that if needed the young dwarf would be more than capable to defend himself.

“Your majesty! How can I help you?” Asked in a calm voice, zoning only for a moment on Thorin’s bruised nose, to then redirect his gaze towards Bilbo, letting out a surprised “Oh!”

“Ori” Thorin greeted with a slight nod. “I trust Balin has informed you of the arrival of the Shire ambassador.” Thorin inquired. 

“Yes,” replied Ori, turning to offer Bilbo a slightly nervous smile.

Bilbo, pleasantly surprised, responded in kind and gave the dwarf his best smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Ori’s eyes widened slightly and his smile widened. “Master Baggins, you can come find me anytime you want. I’ve been told you enjoy books a lot and since very few of them are in Westron I can help you understand them, we also have a few in Sindarin and Quenya and while I’m not so versed in those languages I could still try to help you. Furthermore, if you need with help anything at all, be it about your work as an ambassador or anything else, I’m at your service,” announced Ori, practically vibrating in obvious excitement. 

Bilbo felt a tad taken back but joy instantly took over. 

This was the first time since he had arrived that someone had shown any sort of positive emotion to his presence in the city. “Thank you so much, Ori. I plan to come as soon as I can find some time for myself,” he assured the dwarf. “You can call me Bilbo if you want.” 

“Oh, Mahal! How rude of me. I’m Ori, son of Nari.” He fretted, his cheeks — covered in a faint beard — tinting red.

“I look forward to working with you,” Bilbo replied, smiling again, finding the dwarf very charming, in his own slightly awkward way.

Thorin cleared his throat, looking more relaxed and even  _ fond —  _ if Bilbo dared to say. “Ori, only after Balin, is the best scribe in Ered Luin and probably the only dwarf you’re going to find that has an interest in other cultures apart from our own. The next meeting won’t take place until another three days or more, so you’ll have time to come during those days if you wish so.”

“That’s marvellous news!” Cheered Bilbo. “I’ll make sure to come by, then.”

“Most of the day I’m holed up inside my study so you can come find me here when you arrive,” Ori said as he turned his head towards the room behind him. When he turned back to look at them he had an apologetic smile on his face. “I hope you don’t mind your Majesty but I have to leave, Master Balin is waiting for me, he needs me to take some scrolls to the brewers guild.” 

“Of course not, Ori. We also have to take our leave, I’m taking Master Baggins around the city and there’s still much more to see. I’m not quite sure if we’re going to be able to see it all as it is,” Thorin replied, nodding one more time to Ori and turning to leave, only waiting for Bilbo to say his goodbyes. 

“Well, then. It was nice meeting you, Ori. I’ll try to come as soon as I can,” Bilbo told him, following Thorin outside the library. 

“He’s a nice lad,” Bilbo commented.

Thorin hummed in agreement. “He’s very dedicated and hard-working. If you need anything feel free to consult him. I’m sure Ori will be happy to help. He harbours a great interest in other races, something not very common among us.” Thorin guided Bilbo through a passage. “He was very excited to meet you when he found out a hobbit was coming.”

Bilbo grinned. “A kindred spirit then. The circumstances might be less than ideal but I have always wanted to learn new cultures being able to learn the dwarven one, having in mind how secretive you lot are, feels like a gift.”

Thorin looked at him in astonishment, briefly stopping in the middle of the road. 

"Thorin, are you alright?" 

He shook his head and began walking again. "Sorry, I was merely surprised, it's the first time someone has ever told me they want to learn more about my culture. I'll be happy to answer your questions."

"Thank you!" Bilbo exclaimed happily, he hadn't expected to be offered something like that. "You can ask me anything about the Shire in return. I wouldn't mind talking about it with you," Bilbo added with a grin.

Thorin suddenly chocked and began coughing. Bilbo patted him on the back, surprised.

"Thank you, I'm alright, just swallowed the wrong way," he said but Bilbo wasn't so sure, Thorin was awfully red, looking as bright as a tomato. "You're a historian, then?" Asked Thorin, changing the topic.

"Oh no! Far from it, I enjoy reading and sometimes writing but I'm nothing like Balin or my father. I simply enjoy it as a hobby. As the head of my family and sometimes impromptu advisor of my grandfather, I have many duties and that keeps me entertained enough to pursue doing anything more than read books and learn new languages." Bilbo explained. He had said advisor but the reality was the was mostly a fancy way of referring to being the vessel of his grandfather's rants and complains.

"I see..." Thorin hummed. "I suppose they made the right choice by sending you here, then."

"I like to think that, yes. But in all honestly, I doubt anyone except the very Thain would have willingly come. Even I, was reluctant to come," admitted Bilbo bashfully.

"How come?" Asked Thorin and to Bilbo's relief, there was no judgment or displeasure in his gaze.

"Well, I have never so far away from my home and I wasn't sure I was ready," Bilbo said, his mood dampening down. "I like to see myself as someone different from my peers but in the end, I'm not much different, I was scared to come..." 

"But you still came," Thorin said softly. "You still came and stood in front of a handful of irascible dwarves and made yourself be heard and when things turned sour you didn't give up. I think that's very brave, not many people, be it dwarves or hobbits, could have done that." Thorin put his hand on Bilbo's arm and gave it a light squeeze, looking meaningfully at Bilbo.

"Thank you, Thorin." Bilbo murmured, heart light and warm.

After that they didn't say anything for a long while, simply walking side by side in comfortable silence.

“Where are we going next?” Asked Bilbo, much later after noticing that the farther they went the more people seemed to be.

“The market, the pride of our city. I believe you're going to enjoy it,” exclaimed Thorin, puffing his chest and a glint in his eyes that Bilbo wasn’t quite sure to interpret.

It was enough to pique Bilbo’s interest, though. So far he had seen nothing but new things and despite how rocky his start with the dwarves might have been Bilbo was excited to learn more about them.

“Lead the way then,” Bilbo said, a determined grin on his face.


	6. PATH 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the he rest of their not date lol. This chapter got pretty long but it's full of fun moments so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> A few things first tho. I know many of you are dying to read a chapter from Throin's pov so I can finally confirm in the next one you're gonna read Thorin's side of the story, get ready bc finally a few major things are gonna be explained!
> 
> Another thing, I'm less busy this month and I after thinking about it I'm pretty sure I'm going to be able to finish chapters more quickly so from now on I'm going to update once a week, instead of every ten days. Updates should be on Fridays since that's when I have more time. 
> 
> Once again, I million thanks for all the love this story is getting. You guys are amazing and I cherish every kudo and comment you leave!

The market was bursting with life and people. It wasn’t all that different from the ones back in the Shire. Bilbo supposed it made sense, it was a market, after all, it would be odd if it was anything but.

The only difference he could spot, apart from the myriad of dwarves instead of hobbits, was that the wares they sold were not quite the same as in the Shire. 

There were jewels and shiny things everywhere, Bilbo wasn’t sure what quality those were as he didn’t know anything in the matter but to him, all looked expensive and overly luxurious. It was something you would never find back in the Shire.

There were stands of weapons as well, around a place Bilbo assumed was the forge. Thorin had explained there was a bigger one for the crafters' guilds near the mines, and that the one there in the market was mostly used by the merchants.

Even the toys stands were different, this time in a surprisingly pleasant way. The particular stand they had stopped in front of was handled by two dwarves, one who wore a funny hat and easy smile and another one who had an _actual_ axe embedded on his head.

They had been both very polite and nice, even when Bilbo had quite rudely kept gaping at the wound of the older-looking dwarf. The dwarf in question had simply pushed a carved little bunny on his hand, ignoring his staring and when Bilbo had complimented his craftsmanship the dwarf had smiled.

Bofur and Bifur, they were called. Very nice dwarves, Bilbo decided. He would be coming back soon to buy more of their wares, he had even commissioned for a new pipe, after watching the ones they were using themselves. Besides, when he got back to the Shire it would be a good idea to take some nice things back, as souvenirs for himself and also as gifts for his relatives. Bofur and Bifur's stand was the best in that regard. It had both beautifully carved wares — both for simple display and others for common use — and the best crafter toys Bilbo had ever seen.

Bilbo would definitely be coming back.

One thing that certainly didn’t, to Bilbo’s immense relief and delight, were the food stands. There were many! Dwarves selling both cooked meals and raw ingredients. 

Bilbo licked his lips as he watched a stand of scrumptiously smelling meat pies.

He looked around, trying to see if he could find anything of his liking. It was already past luncheon and Bilbo was starving. He mentally patted himself on the back at having remembered to bring enough coin with him. Despite having paid half of the fair for the pipe and a couple of knick-knacks from Bifur he still had plenty to pay for a meal.

Bilbo kept eyeing the stands, trying to catch sight of anything that wasn’t meat, bread or potatoes. 

“Do you not eat vegetables?” Asked Bilbo, turning to look at Thorin who had stood by his side and followed along indulgently to whenever Bilbo had headed.

“What for?” Thorin questioned, his eyebrow-raising in surprise and his face scrunching in distaste. 

“Well, to eat, of course!” Replied Bilbo, baffled.

Thorin hummed dubiously, his face still looking as if the very idea of vegetables was making him nauseous. “There’s some, not many as we don’t need much use of them. Mostly onions and carrots and a few plants for seasoning. However there are two stands specialized in greens and the like, that’s where we got food for you.” Thorin explained, his face finally having gone back to normal.

Bilbo looked at him, even more astonished than before.

No need for-

“Are you meaning to tell me you don’t eat greens?” Asked Bilbo, feeling aghast at the very idea of not eating neither fruits nor vegetables. “What are you? Children?” He asked outraged.

“I-” Thorin suddenly turned red and he frowned fiercely at Bilbo, his nose scrunching almost painfully with the bruise that was still on his nose, the swelling was going down but Bilbo didn't doubt it would be an angry purple the next day. “We dwarves don’t need greens. Besides, they taste disgusting, it’s impossible to consume those foul things!” Thorin exclaimed, glaring at Bilbo.

Bilbo gaped at him and huffed feeling indignant. “Is that why the items asked from the Shire were so few?! You barely asked for a few vegetables of fruits!”

“As I said, we have no need for them,” Thorin replied curtly. 

People around the market were starting to stare at them, had been since the moment they entered — Bilbo had chalked it up to Thorin being the king and him the infamous outsider — but this time they were doing it outwardly, but Bilbo couldn’t care less, this was simply outrageous.

Bilbo took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. No need to jump into conclusions, perhaps he was just misunderstanding something, there was no possible way an entire race was a bunch of giant babies...

“Are you physically unable to eat them?” Bilbo asked, carefully, trying his best to keep an even tone.

“Nothing of the like,” replied Thorin and Bilbo stopped himself from huffing in exasperation. “Well, we can’t eat as many greens as you hobbit, or the _elves-_ ” Thorin said the word with utmost disgust, “-it sits badly on our stomachs but we can consume it in moderate amounts. We simply decide not to due to its foul taste. Naturally, there are exceptions but you’ll rarely find any dwarf that would willingly eat a plate full of greens unless they see themselves at the doors of starvation.”

Bilbo grumbled the most unpleasant things he could come up with, under his breath — making Thorin raise his eyebrow and eyes widen in surprise.

Bilbo decided to ignore him and instead took another calming breath because otherwise he might scream at Thorin again and that would get them nowhere.

“Do you have crops here?” Asked Bilbo after taking a few breaths. “And a cook- One that’s knowledgeable about dwarven cuisine and is open-minded about vegetables,” Bilbo added, meeting Thorin’s gaze evenly. His patience and good mood felt as thin as paper, at that moment.

“We do, our crops are not very big and are mostly grains but there’s a few in the outsides of the city, close to the wall. What do you need the cook for?” Thorin asked, looking warily at Bilbo as if he would draw out a carrot out of his sleeve and stuff it on his kingly mouth.

Well, he wasn’t particularly wrong… Bilbo felt very tempted to do just that…

“To revise my plans for the next meeting. I had not accounted for dwarves being stubborn about their diets as well, but I suppose I should have expected it,” Bilbo mumbled, grumpily. “I need to meet a cook that knows about your customs and that will help me devise a plan and list concerning the food that could be exchanged,” Bilbo explained at last.

“But that has already been agreed upon with your grandfather,” Thorin refuted, looking worried and confused.

“I am aware,” Bilbo said with a nod, “but I suspect we can both benefit better if I do this. You have to trust me on this, Thorin. I want what's best for both of our people and I can’t let this treaty fail,” Bilbo said decisively. “My grandfather and you did the negotiations miles away from each other, neither understanding what the other might need. That’s why I came here! To understand and see for both sides what can be improved. As much as we both would have wanted I can’t simply sign the treaty and leave back to the Shire with a half-backed deal when we could have very well gotten a better one. Both of us.” Bilbo clarified.

Thorin looked at him in surprise, and the market that was once full of life was now early silent, all the people around looking at Bilbo. 

He swallowed, refusing to look away from Thorin who was looking at Bilbo in consideration. 

Thorin frowned and after a long while he finally spoke. “Very well. I’ll trust you on this. There’s one dwarf I trust, he’s a magnificent cook and he might be able to aid you, he's actually related to Bofur's brother." Thorin added and Bilbo felt a little eased. If the dwarf was as nice as his brother he would be fortunate. "As for the crops I’m afraid we won’t be able to visit them today, but I’ll arrange for you to be taken there before the meeting,” Thorin said, seriously nodding at Bilbo.

Bilbo sighed in relief and grinned at Thorin. “Thank you, I’m very grateful.” 

His stomach chose that very moment to make itself known by letting out a growl loud enough to be heard by Thorin and other bystanders.

Bilbo’s face coloured in shame, suddenly acutely aware of all the dwarves’ gazes that he had previously tried to ignore, burning holes in him.

Thorin’s mouth twitched but thankfully didn’t comment on it.

“Wait here,” Thorin said, before quickly turning and disappearing among the rest of the dwarves. Thorin might be tall but the hairstyles of the dwarves were even taller and Bilbo lost sight of him quite fast.

Bilbo was left standing in the middle of the market, blinking in surprise at his hasty retreat, eyes still following his every move. With a resigned shake of his head, Bilbo looked around trying to find someplace less crowded to wait for Thorin. 

He spotted a bench nearby and quickly headed towards it. Bilbo looked around, trying to see if, on his way, he could spot Thorin. The last thing he needed was for the dwarven king to get a fright thinking he had lost Bilbo. 

Bilbo sat down and while he waited for Thorin. The market was going back to normal after the uproar Thorin and he had occasioned but Bilbo could still feel the stares of a few dwarves.

It was unsettling and plain rude.

They were eyeing Bilbo as if he had filled their entire houses with venomous mushrooms. 

Bilbo moodily glared at his feet. It was unfair and while he could understand their reluctance to welcome him in their lands it didn’t mean he liked it. But he would show them, he would show every single one of those who were currently glaring at Bilbo that this alliance was the best thing they could have ever happened to them, and never again they would dare to look down on Bilbo or any other hobbit.

Because if Bilbo was made out of anything it was out of spite and he, much like his parents had, simply loved to prove other people wrong.

As Bilbo grumbled and cursed inside his head, keeping an eye towards where Thorin had gone in case he came back and didn’t find Bilbo, he failed to notice the small lump that was hurrying towards him until it was much too late. Feeling something collision against his legs and sudden chill on his feet Bilbo yelped and raised his head, meeting the big eyes of a surprised little dwarf. 

The boy couldn’t have been older than a toddler, judging by the faint fuzz on his chubby cheeks that promised nothing less than a fantastic beard. 

“Well, hello there!” Bilbo said and when he felt something cold trickle down his feet he looked down at them and saw the remains of what looked like ice cream melting on top of them. He shook his feet to get rid of the ice cream and was about to fetch his handkerchief when the child let out a sniffle.

Bilbo looked at him in surprise. The lad was pitifully eyeing the ice cream on Bilbo’s feet, the little bit that remained on his cup was also melting, his hand and face were covered in the stuff.

Bilbo cooed at him, watching the boy bite his lip fighting the fat tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry about your ice cream! Are you alright?” Asked Bilbo, using the handkerchief to clean up the boy. 

The toddler shook his head and answered something Bilbo didn’t understand, in what sounded like Khuzdul.

Bilbo frowned. This language barrier was surely pesky, he understood the reserves dwarves had but he honestly would have loved to be able to learn their language, if nothing else so he could understand the boy or the stupid grumbled complains some of the dwarves seemed to make when he passed by them…

“Where are your parents? Are you, perhaps, lost?” Asked Bilbo, brushing the tears away from the big brown eyes of the young boy.

The child shook his head and said something else. Suddenly Bilbo heard a dismayed shout. Raising his head again he spotted a rather frazzled dwarf coming their way. She was clad in simple and slightly haggard clothes, much like the child, and was running towards them. 

She haphazardly grabbed the arm of the boy and harshly scolded him in Khuzdul. They talked for a little bit, back and forth, thick tears gathering on the child’s eyes and his lip wobbling fiercely after the scolding. 

If Bilbo had caught anything from the exchange it seemed the boy had wandered off on his own leaving his poor mother in a state of utter fright and worry.

She suddenly turned to look at him, a worried and scared glint on her eyes. “I’m sorry my son bothered you, please forgive him. He didn’t mean any harm,” she said, looking at Bilbo’s stained feet in dismay.

Bilbo blinked in surprise. That’s what she was worried about?

Why? Bilbo didn't understand.

Did she think Bilbo would go to Thorin and demand her to be punished or anything of the sort? A kind of monetary retribution? Did she think Bilbo would leave and end the treaty after being soiled with ice-cream? Bilbo wasn’t quite sure, but either of the options were quite worrying on their own. 

The poor dwarrowdam was most likely worried she and her young son had ruined what could possibly be their salvation in the winter. They didn’t look that well-accommodated and Bilbo knew from experience that those who struggled with money were the first ones to succumb to the shortages of winter. 

Bilbo quickly shook his head, smiling amicably at the dwarf. “No, no. Not at all, your son was far from being a bother. He was keeping me company while I waited for the king. It was my fault I ended up like this, I startled him you see, so harm was done!”

Both mother and son were looking now in astonishment at Bilbo, meanwhile, the only thing he could really focus on was the snotty and messy face the child was sporting.

Bilbo tutted, unable to restrain himself and brought up the handkerchief once again, and carefully and slowly began to clean the boy’s face again. “You’re going to stain your clothes like that,” softly reprimanded Bilbo, putting the handkerchief on top of the boy’s nose he said, “here, blow.”

Once that was done and the boy was all clean he smiled at Bilbo and said something to him, Bilbo simply smiled, as he doubted it was an insult. 

“Thank you...” Said the dwarrowdam, looking a little dazed but infinitely more relaxed, her eyes sized on Bilbo’s feet and she frowned, biting her lip, “but your napkin... and your feet...”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Bilbo easily said. “I’ll wash it when I get home and as my father always told me-” Bilbo made a dramatic pause and pulled another handkerchief from his back pocket. “-Always have a spare handkerchief. See? Everything is alright,” Bilbo insisted as he began cleaning his feet. 

He felt a bit like a doofus but it had been worth it, the mother and son looked finally at ease and while Bilbo felt a few stares, those didn’t feel threatening anymore.

After a few more thanks they both left and Bilbo swung his legs merrily, feeling like he had accomplished something and patiently waited for Thorin. After a few more minutes he also arrived and when he didn’t seem to sight Bilbo he got up and waved his arm, shouting his name.

“I apologize for making you wait so long,” Thorin said after he had reached the bench, sitting down beside Bilbo and offering a bowl of something that smelt heavenly, their thighs almost touching at the closeness. The bench was quite narrow and it seemed more so with Thorin’s big- well, _everything_.

Bilbo grinned easily, delighted at the fact Thorin had gone to get food for him, so chivalrous! And still feeling content from his last encounter. “I didn’t wait too long. Besides, I had company.”

“Oh?” Inquired Thorin.

Bilbo hummed. “I met a very delightful toddler, very sweet the lad, and also very clumsy,” added Bilbo with a laugh. “Poor lad poured half of his ice-cream on top of my feet. His mother was very concerned but they were both very nice, even if I couldn't understand a word the little one was saying.” Bilbo chortled once again. Even if his feet were now a little sticky he felt happy and content for once. This day was going much better than he had expected.

Thorin blinked at him slowly, eyes slightly wide. Bilbo saw his throat contract as he swallowed thickly.

“What?” Asked Bilbo, a bemused smile still on his face.

“Ah, sorry. It’s nothing. I’m glad you had them to wait with you,” Thorin hasty answered, lowering his head and keeping his eyes on his own bowl, a pinched frown on his face.

Bilbo found it odd but let it be with a shrug, finding his meal infinitely more interesting than the complex thing that seemed to be Thorin’s train of thought.

His bowl was filled with fried balls of something — potato Bilbo assumed, judging by the smell — and a juicy topping on top, made of sauce and onions. It was still warm and smelled heavenly.

Bilbo looked at Thorin and saw him eat them with his hands. Bilbo copied him and did the same, biting into one of the balls and almost moaned when the rich taste of its juicy filling hit him.

Bilbo’s eyes fluttered closed as he enjoyed the food, his stomach warming in happiness at having been finally fed. He had been right, the balls were made of potato, mashed potato to be precise, and were filled with minced beef and, surprisingly, a few vegetables. The balls were evenly fried to keep the shape from crumbling.

Bilbo had never eaten something like this. It was a new experience altogether and he was enjoying it immensely. 

“What is this?” Bilbo asked Thorin, his mouth stuffed and his cheeks feeling warm in happiness. There were very few things that could make a hobbit happier than a good, hearty meal.

“They’re called stuffed potato balls. Do you like them?” Inquired Thorin, smiling at Bilbo.

“These are scrumptious!” Eagerly answered Bilbo, taking another bite to prove his words.

Thorin grinned and Bilbo could have sworn he had puffed his chest. “I thought you would. I’m glad it’s up to your tastes.”

They ate in silence and Bilbo enjoyed every bit of the stuffed potato balls, looking sadly at his bowl when he finished them all. Thorin tried to offer him one of his own and Bilbo blushed crimson red at that, quickly but gently, turning down the offer and changing the topic to avoid explaining the reason for his fiery blush.

Thorin had no way of knowing what it meant for hobbits, to offer food to someone else from your own plate, but the gesture still made Bilbo feel warm all the same.

They went back to look at the rest of the stands and Bilbo bought a couple of items he found interesting, mainly writing material as the quality in the paper and ink was far greater than anything he had yet to find in the Shire.

As the day turned to late afternoon they calmly made their way back. Thorin had decided to take them on a different route so Bilbo could see more of the city. Just when Bilbo was about to ask about if Thorin had a favourite fruit — or if he hated those as well — he heard a loud shout.

Bilbo turned to the right, trying to find where that noise had come from. In the street across from where he and Thorin were a couple of dwarfs were arguing, both wore worn-out clothes and one of them looked drunk. They were red-faced and shouting loud enough for the passersby to give them a wide berth and a cautious glance. 

Bilbo saw in astonishment as the argument escalated. He couldn’t hear very clearly what was being said between them but it was serious. They began pushing each other and for a moment Bilbo was sure it would escalate to violent blows. Thorin was moving to intervene and Bilbo almost caught him by the arm to stop him. Luckily he didn't need to, as three dwarfs, clad in the guards uniform, separated them.

The drunk dwarf that seemed to have started the fight spit at the feet of the others and shouted with disdain, "You Ereborians, are nothing more than pests!"

Bilbo was left confused as he wasn't quite sure what he was referring to, but he was left upset nonetheless. It was clearly an offensive remark and the way Thorin inhaled sharply made him more certain of it.

Suddenly the angry dwarf looked at their direction and he and Thorin met gazes, the fight suddenly leaving the drunk dwarf. He lowered his head to the ground and bowed his head to Thorin curtly, before turning on unstable feet and leaving.

Bilbo followed the dwarf with his eyes until he disappeared and then turned his gaze towards Thorin, who wore a pinched expression and a frown of sadness on his face.

"Let's go," Thorin said and began walking again.

"Ah, yes," Bilbo agreed, hesitantly, following him.

The easiness and light mood was gone and for a while, they walked in silence, heavy and strained.

After a while Bilbo cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment before asking, “I know it’s not my place to ask about this, but-” Bilbo cautiously began, “-does this happen often?” 

Thorin’s face made a conflicted expression, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning into a grimace. He looked to the side. 

Bilbo quickly regretted his words. Blast his curious and nosy nature! “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business. I just found it odd as I have always heard that dwarves are a tight-knit and while in the Shire we also have our differences, I've never seen anything like that...” Bilbo began rambling, becoming more agitated as he kept talking.

“No, it’s alright and it’s fair you know about this,” Thorin said, cutting off Bilbo’s rambling. “You heard what he said, didn’t you? The way that drunk dwarf referred to the black-haired one.”

Bilbo hesitantly nodded and said in a low and cautious voice, “he called him a _‘pest’_.”

“That’s right,” Thorin said with a sigh, his expression closing off and eyes becoming impossibly cold. After a moment he asked, “what do you know of Erebor?”

Bilbo racked his brain and searched through the memories of all the information he had read about dwarves, the name ringing a bell. Suddenly Bilbo remembered the picture of a mountain in a map he had found on a tattered book. “It’s a place, it’s a dwarven kingdom, I think,” Bilbo replied, cautiously and slightly unsure.

Thorin smiled faintly at that, coming out forced and hollow. It sent a painful wrench to Bilbo’s heart. “You’re a bright one, Bilbo.” Thorin complimented. “Erebor was my home and the home of many more, but due to _certain circumstances_ we had to leave,” Thorin explained bitterly. “We wandered through many places and found asylum here, in Ered Luin, as this place was under my protection back when I was the prince of Erebor.” 

Thorin paused for a moment and Bilbo took that time to assimilate what he had heard. He wanted to ask, know why they had to leave, the curiosity almost killing him, but he refrained from doing it. It was clear it was a sore topic for Thorin and the last thing Bilbo wanted was to bring back the grief he had heard in his voice. Besides, while they seemed to be heading towards a tentative friendship Bilbo doubted that it would go as smoothly if he angered Thorin. The dwarf clearly had decided not to elaborate for a reason and Bilbo wasn't about to go and push for explanations that didn't concern him. 

For once, his curiosity could go and die a slow death.

“This place had never been very rich or vast but when we came here I tried my best to make it prosperous. The people here came to respect me and accept him as their king but I could do so much,” Thorin continued. “The lands are not rich, the mines less so, and after more than half of Erebor came to live here the struggle was bigger. It’s hard to find work, and as much as it pains to admit this, this land and this city are poorer after our arrival. This consequently caused much friction between the original habitants of Ered Luin and the Ereborians. I can’t blame them, they all want to feed their families but with the threat of this harsh winter everyone is even tenser.”

Thorin exhaled, his hand clenched in a tight fist. “The internal conflict in the city was another reason I decided to sign the treaty.”

Bilbo looked at the brave dwarf in front of him and realized, his heart almost on his mouth, that no, Thorin hadn’t changed at all. Bilbo might have been surprised to see this new facet of him, given his role as king, but he was still the same kind-hearted, and thoughtful, and _so_ incredibly brave dwarf he had met so long ago.

Feeling slightly choked up at the revelation Bilbo did the only thing he could think about. He grabbed Thorin’s hand and squeezed it between his own smaller one. “I’m glad you did. Thank you for telling me this,” Bilbo said, having to clear his throat midway to get rid of the lump in his throat.

Thorin instantly relaxed, meeting his gaze he squeezed the hand back before pulling back and offered a tired, but entirely sincere smile at Bilbo. His eyes, no longer icy cold, shone with the sun. “Thank you for listening. It wouldn’t be fair to you if you didn’t know,” Thorin said with a nod.

After that, they quickly continued their way back. Thorin accompanied Bilbo all the way to his door and picked up his soiled clothes. 

“Thank you for taking me around the city. I think I have a much clearer picture of what needs to be brought up at the next meeting.” Bilbo said, offering a smile to Thorin. “I had fun,” he awkwardly added and in a moment of bravery, he asked, “maybe, if you aren’t busy, you could come one day for lunch or dinner. That way I can show my own culture a bit. Who knows, I might even get you to like veggies.” Bilbo finished, playfully. Inside his mind, he prayed to all gods he knew that his cheeks weren’t as red as they seemed to be, judging by the hotness he felt on his face.

His heart was hammering on his chest, but Bilbo felt elated. This didn’t mean anything, it would be just two friends sharing a meal if Thorin accepted. Bilbo hadn’t made the request with any other sort of untoward expectations but the thought of cooking for Thorin was still exhilarating. 

Thorin’s eyes widened slightly and he quickly nodded before clearing his throat. “Of course. I would like that very much, I have heard great praise from Balin and Dwalin in regards to your cooking.” 

Thorin seemed to be about to say something more but nothing came out of his mouth and simply kept his eyes on Bilbo, looking at him, that half-smile still on his face. Bilbo, for his part, cheering at the acceptance of his invitation, tilted his head in confusion at Thorin, who was _still_ looking at him. 

Bilbo wondered if he had any remains of the sauce on his face and subtly tried to brush his fingers across his lips and cheeks. Thorin inhaled and quickly blinked repeatedly, making Bilbo even more confused.

He shook his head, it wasn’t worth bothering himself worrying about what might be going on inside Thorin’s head. The dwarf was incredibly difficult to read and even when they had been alone in those woods, all those years ago, Bilbo had found him terribly confusing at times. Bilbo might like the dwarf, terribly so, but he wasn’t above admitting the king was slightly weird at times. Bilbo didn’t mind though, it was another thing that made Thorin charming in his own way.

“Well, then. I’ll see you soon,” Thorin said, bowing his head to Bilbo, his voice coming out slightly broken.

Bilbo smiled at him and gave him his farewells as well. “Please, go see a healer soon, for the nose,” Bilbo asked.

Thorin’s eyes crinkled as he grinned at Bilbo, looking almost fondly at him. “I will, and you, make sure to apply the salve correctly.” After a short pause he added, “if you’re in need of aid call me, I’ll help you.” Thorin’s eyes widened slightly after he said that, then he sharply nodded once again at him and before Bilbo could say anything else he turned around and walked hastily towards wherever he was headed next.

Bilbo blinked in astonishment and laughed at the mystery that was Thorin Oakenshield. Bilbo spent the day in a blissful haze, recounting the day and making plans for the next meeting. As he wrote another letter to his grandfather he couldn’t help but think that trying to befriend Thorin wasn’t so bad. Even if Bilbo could never have him as anything else but a friend, having the charming and delightful dwarf close to him made Bilbo happy in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is such an idiot akdhskd, I love him. He's too deep in his own pining to even realize other people pining for him.


	7. PATH 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin pines and, as it turns out, is very weak to Bilbo's laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's chapter is finally here! I'm so excited for you to read it. I really love writing from his pov. Btw the paragraphs that are in cursive are Thorin's thought, in case it wasn't clear and you get confused.
> 
> I think this chapter is the longest one so far at 5,5k, I thought I would barely make it 4k but here we are. 😂
> 
> Did you guys know a group of birds is called "unkindness"? That's so rude omg, so out of respect for the lovely ravens I'm just using flock bc fuck it, ravens are lovely.
> 
> Another thing before I forget, since I have already been forgetting during the last couple of updates akdjkfkl. I wrote another fic a couple of weeks ago, (this time a modern au). It's completed and it's 34k full of winter fluffiness and Bilbo and Thorin being awesome uncles. You can check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252848/chapters/63902626) if you want to read it! 💕
> 
> EDIT (27/10/2020): This story is officially on a short hiatus. Life has gotten incredibly hectic between covid, my exams and my upcoming internship at the hospital so I'm super sorry but I'm not going to be able to update for a while. I'm going to keep working on the story, and once I have written at least two-thirds of the story, I'll begin posting again. I know it's not good news but atm it's impossible for me to keep a solid updating schedule and I don't want to give you crappy chapters. Hope you guys understand. I might post one or two other fic in the meanwhile so stay tuned! And as always thanks for all the support! 💕

Thorin walked briskly towards his room, face flaming. 

He wanted to slap himself. He could hardly believe what he had just offered. 

Helping take care of Bilbo’s wounds...

What was he thinking?!

Thorin had truly wanted to return the favour and had offered with the most honest and innocent intentions until he had realized the hobbit would have to be shirtless to do so. 

Thorin would have to see him half bare to heal him…

Mahal.

Thorin shook his head and hurried his pace as his face burned even hotter. So untoward… He just hoped Bilbo hadn’t realized the lewdness of his offer. The last thing he wanted was to offend him. 

They were finally getting along and Thorin didn’t wish to ruin it. He had already done so during their first meeting… 

Or, rather, the second one…

No. Thorin couldn’t dwell on that. Bilbo clearly didn’t remember and trying to make him would only make him uncomfortable. He already acted wary and cautious around Thorin. He didn’t doubt that if he brought up the topic of their… past meeting, the hobbit would only withdraw from him. The best he could hope was to befriend him and perhaps — maybe one day if he was blessed enough — that would turn into something  _ more _ .

He reached his chambers and closed the door behind him, thankful that Balin had given him the rest of the day to himself. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to attend meetings and deal with his not so pleasant kingly duties after having had such a wonderful day.

Thorin threw his dirty robes in a chair and sat down on the sofa that was in the main room with a sigh. 

He still could hardly believe it.

Bilbo —  _ Bilbo!  _ — was in Ered Luin.

Thorin had never expected to meet him again like that. His mind had wandered many times with thoughts and memories of him since they parted ways, and even more when he began exchanging letters with the Thain.

Many nights he had wondered if thanks to the treaty he would get to meet Bilbo again. He had never expected to actually be the case and that the ambassador that would come would be the kind and entirely too curious hobbit he had met so long ago.

But that  _ had _ been the case and Thorin, like the fool he was, had blown it up the second they had met.

He would blame it to the surprise, to the shock of seeing those auburn locks that looked golden in the sun. He would blame it to the all-consuming despair, rage and disappointment he had felt when he had realized Bilbo didn’t recognize him. 

Instead of meeting delighted and bright eyes, he had met fearful ones filled with wariness and doubt.

It had hurt.

Those days that had spent together were one of the best memories Thorin had. He cherished the time spent with Bilbo like a dragon cherished its treasure, and wasn't that ironic?

So Thorin had done what he always did when he was hurt; when confronted with something he couldn’t fix, something he couldn’t understand. He had lashed out.

He still deeply regretted his behaviour. It was unfit of a king, and less so of a friend — even if Bilbo didn’t remember him Thorin still considered himself his friend. But Thorin supposed the bruised nose made up for it. 

It certainly had broken the wall between them, and — Thorin would shamefully add — had given him the exhilarating opportunity of getting to experience Bilbo’s touch on his face, and more importantly, on his  _ beard _ .

The banging had been painful, but Thorin hadn’t lied when he had said he got worse from sparring with Dwalin. The bruise had been tender enough to make him hiss but not enough to distract him from enjoying Bilbo’s hands carding through his beard.

Thorin buried his face in his hands and groaned in deep shame.

That had been the most untoward thing he had ever done. 

Bilbo wasn’t aware of what he had done and the meaning behind it and Thorin should have told him, instead he had simply let the hobbit touch as much as he pleased while Thorin could barely take a single breath.

It was incredibly inappropriate to let someone who was not family or your beloved to touch your beard. Thorin should have told him, he knew Bilbo would have understood and would have respected it, but Thorin had been too weak, too starved from the contact, from the closeness he once had shared with the hobbit, to stop him. 

Even back then had been the same. Bilbo had requested to touch his beard out of curiosity and Thorin had let him, feeling like a naughty tween. 

Now it would be twice he had failed to share that sort of important information with Bilbo, but Thorin was a weak weak dwarf, and as untoward and dishonest as it had been he didn’t regret it, neither occasions. 

Thorin rubbed his rough palms together and exhaled as he relaxed on the sofa.

He could still vividly recall the day they had met. Thorin had been on his way back from Bree, after having split up with Dwalin and the trading guild. Dwalin still had more work to do but Thorin had been required to go back to Ered Luin so he had to cut his journey short.

He had dutifully followed the path his map indicated but without his stone sense to guide him, having there barely any sort of rock on the terrain, Thorin had inevitably gotten lost. 

He was aware he relied too much on his stone sense but trying to traverse around places without it would be akin to asking him to walk around with his eyes shut, or with a single leg. Thorin was keenly connected to the stone and since the day he had been born he had been using it. It was impossible to shut it down at this point.

Despite wanting to simply pass around the borders of The Shire, where the funny-looking hobbits lived, he had ended deep in the forest. The forest everyone warned to stay away from.

He had spent almost three days trying to get out, and for a moment Thorin had been sure that cursed forest would be his dead bead. That had been when he had met Bilbo.

The hobbit had gone on an excursion and planned to stay in the forest a few days before heading towards Bree.

Thorin had been on his way to try and pick some berries and in his efforts, he had slid down a hill and gotten pitifully tangled in a rose bush.

He could remember their first encounter as if it had just happened the day before. Thorin closed his eyes, letting his mind wander.

* * *

  
  


_ “Do you need any help?” Suddenly a voice asked behind Thorin. Thorin turned his head slightly to look behind from the corner of his eye, pointing the dagger he had been using to cut himself free towards the one who had spoken. _

_ The owner of the voice let out a yelp at Thorin’s actions and took various steps away from him, looking frightened. His eyes glued to the dagger. _

_ It was a hobbit, a young one. Thorin had never interacted with them first hand but was aware of their lack of beards. Still, even with the knowledge, it was strange to see. Thorin was used to looking at the bare faces of elves but hobbits were entirely different. From what Thorin could see, not fully turned as he was, he would guess that the hobbit was old enough to be of age but anything else Thorin would say. Without the beard, Thorin had too much trouble. He wasn't even completely certain if the hobbit was indeed male. _

_ “No,” Thorin grunted, lowering his dagger after a moment and turning his attention towards the bush, trying to cut it once again. He pulled at his coat and cursed under his breath when the fur on it caught in the thorns and almost ripped.  _

_ “But-” The hobbit said, hesitantly. _

_ “Leave,” Thorin ordered, not even turning to look at him. He was hungry and exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to deal with the halfling. He knew it was stupid to refuse his aid, the hobbit most likely could help Thorin out of the forest and lead him towards the right path but in the end, Thorin’s pride won. _

_ He was tired of depending on others, since the day the dragon had arrived Thorin had been doing nothing else but depend on others. On Daín, on his father, on Dís, Dwalin… the list was interminable and Thorin couldn't allow it to grow bigger. So he dismissed the hobbit and ignored him, hoping he would leave any minute now and Thorin could go back to his walking around in circles in the cursed forest and its cursed bushes that wouldn’t let go! _

_ “The forest is going to eat you if you stay that much longer,” he hobbit said, this time he hadn’t stuttered, instead his voice took a worried and quite ominous tone that Thorin didn’t like one bit. _

_ “What?” Thorin asked, finally turning to look fully at the hobbit, who was eyeing the bush worried. He was tapping his big foot nervously and Thorin absently wondered if he wasn’t cold being bare feet.  _

_ The hobbit was strange, in Thorin’s eyes, looking entirely too foreign. His hair, shiny golden in the light, was a mass of tight curls cropped short, his rosy cheeks looking smoother than a newborn’s dwarf and his ears were strangely pointy, not in the way of elves but they weren't round like his own, either. _

_ To top it all the small being had the most confusing eyes Thorin had ever seen, as the light danced and the halfling shifted on his feet Thorin watched warily as his eyes seemed to change colour, going from moss green to brown, to grey. _

_ Thorin wondered for a moment if this wasn’t all a trick of the forest. It was known to be cursed so clearly, it had magic. Could the forest be trying to destroy Thorin's mind with illusions? If that was the case it was failing terribly. _

_ “The forest is going to eat you,” repeated the hobbit and Thorin scowled at him. _

_ “Cease your talking. If you’re an illusion of this cursed forest you can simply disappear. I’ll not listen to you.” _

_ The hobbit sputtered and Thorin had to hand it to the forest because it sounded very realistic, but again he supposed that’s how illusions were, Thorin wouldn’t know as he had never been under one, but he had heard tales and those enough made him cautious. _

_ “I’m not an illusion! And don’t be so idiotic. You can’t stay here. If you’re already thinking you’re seeing illusions it means you have already been far too long. How long have you been here?” The hobbit pressed, walking towards him. It was then that Thorin noticed his backpack on his back and the walking stick he held on one hand.  _

_ “Over three nights,” Thorin ended replying almost unwillingly after a while, but if the hobbit wasn’t an illusion and was, in fact, telling the truth then Thorin, at least, had to find what he had meant when he had said the forest was going to ‘eat’ him. _

_ “Oh dear,” the hobbit fretted. “No wonder the forest is unwilling to let you go,” he added, motioning with a tilt of his head towards the bush where his clothes were still tangled. _

_ “What do you mean by that?” Thorin asked, feeling dread and slightly unsettled by those words. _

_ “The Old Forest is magic, it protects the Shire and unless you’re a hobbit you can’t stay too long in here, even for us hobbits can be dangerous. For outsiders more so. If you spend too much time here the forest won’t let you and will consume you, it has already begun.” the hobbit answered, looking once again towards the bush. “Take my hand,” he hesitantly said after a moment and kneeled beside Thorin, offering his hand, palm up. “I can help,” he added when Thorin simply eyed him suspiciously. _

_ Thorin considered his options. If the hobbit was telling the truth and not simply trying to scare or deceive Thorin, then could he really risk the possibility of being killed by a forest? Could he risk the lives of so many people who relied on him for the sake of his pride? _

_ Thorin didn’t even think too hard to know the answer. _

_ He took the hand. _

* * *

Thorin chuckled at the memory. He had been incredibly cautious and wary of Bilbo, having in mind how he felt now it almost felt unreal. It was unreal how much could change in only four days.

* * *

_ “I apologize for my earlier harshness,” Thorin said as the hobbit quietly pried the thorns off Thorin’s clothes. He had already given the coat for lost, as it didn't matter how strongly he tugged, the bush wouldn't let go, then the hobbit had come and had managed to pry it free easily. _

_ That had been all the proof Thorin needed to follow after him. _

_ “It’s alright, I understand being cautious. Oh, dear! How incredibly rude of me, I never introduced myself. No wonder you didn’t wish to listen to me,” the hobbit suddenly exclaimed. “I’m Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.” _

_ Thorin refrained from saying that no knowing his name wasn’t the reason he didn’t trust him and simply nodded at him and said, “Thorin Oakenshield. Well met Master Baggins.” _

_ “Just call me Bilbo, please,” the hobbit-  _ Bilbo _ , said. _

_ Thorin nodded once in agreement. _

_ After that didn’t say anything for a while, and Thorin watched as Bilbo finished getting rid of the thorns in his coat. The hobbit passed it back to him and hesitantly asked, “May I ask where you were heading? I could help you get back there faster. Besides it’s not wise for you to remain alone here.” _

_ Thorin pondered for a second if he should tell him but eventually spoke. “I’m headed towards the Blue Mountains.”  _

_ “Then you are quite far from the right path, master dwarf,” Bilbo said with a frown. “We’re almost in the Shire, close to Buckland. I-” Bilbo hesitated for a moment meanwhile Thorin cursed the already cursed forest and the absence of stone in it. “I could take you towards the right path, at least until we get out of the Old Forest, you should be able to find your way easily afterwards.” _

_ Thorin looked at the hobbit in surprise. “Are you certain? I wouldn’t want to impose,” Thorin added, eyeing the travel garb the hobbit was clad in. “It appears you already had other plans.” _

_ “I was planning to go to Bree for a few days but I can easily extend my adventure,” Bilbo said, with a rather comely chuckle. It made his eyes crinkle at the corner and his whole face brightened, it was rather… lovely. Thorin couldn’t help but notice that even without a beard Bilbo had his own charm, he was fetching in a way Thorin couldn’t very well explain. _

_ Thorin shook those intrusive thoughts away, unsure of why they had come in the first place. He instantly felt bad from having doubted and talked to Bilbo so scornfully not moments ago. If it hadn’t been for his help Thorin might still be trapped in that enchanted bush or forever lost in the never-ending forest. _

_ “I would greatly thank you if you would help me,” Thorin graciously said, the idea of asking for help suddenly not seeming so horrid if the pretty hobbit was the one to be doing it. Thorin bit his lip and felt his right twitch.  _

_ There were those thoughts again... _

_ Bilbo then smiled charmingly and Thorin completely forgot his complaints about his mind praising the hobbit endlessly, it was impossible not to. _

* * *

_ “This is my first time meeting a dwarf,” Bilbo said, conversationally as they made their way around the forest. It was the second day and they had spent the cold night in the forest, huddled close. _

_ “I hope I didn’t ruin it for you, with my poor behaviour,” Thorin said, still feeling bad about that. He wasn’t sure why, he hadn’t even been that rude, to begin with, but he still mourned the fact that he hadn’t met Bilbo in better circumstances.  _

_ As he had come to find, thanks to his endless chatter, the hobbit was incredibly sweet and looked at the word with eyes that shone with interest and curiosity, as if only by looking he could uncover all the secrets it guarded. _

_ Among all the misery Thorin had lived through this was the first time he had encountered someone so bright.  _

_ “Oh, far from it,” Bilbo replied with a barely suppressed smile and just like that Thorin felt his heart flutter. _

* * *

_ “I have always dreamt of leaving and seeing what the world has to offer but I never truly dared,” Bilbo confessed in the quiet of the night. They were huddled close, once again, as the night was chilly and Thorin couldn’t stop the thought that if he stretched his hand an inch he would be able to reach Bilbo, touch his hair or his hand, even. _

_ He did neither, instead, he said, “the world is not a kind place, you’re not missing out on much.” _

_ “You talk from experience?” _

_ “Aye, I’m a wandering blacksmith so I have travelled to many places,” Thorin reluctantly explained. He technically wasn’t lying but the fact that he wasn’t being completely truthful, left a bitter taste on his mouth. “But I must admit I wouldn’t mind visiting the Shire one day, especially if everyone is as pleasant as you,” Thorin added, blushing furiously not a second later when he realized what he had uttered. It had almost sounded like he was flirting...  _

_ Never in his life, he had been more thankful for the darkness. _

_ Bilbo chortled and at that moment Thorin vowed to come back one day, fancifully thinking of maybe whisking the hobbit away on an adventure of their own. _

* * *

_ Thorin heard Bilbo clear his throat and turned to look at him. “Can I-” started the hobbit, hesitantly. “Could I possibly touch your beard?” Bilbo asked, cheeks rosy tinged and a shy look on his face. _

_ Thorin’s breath stuttered and felt like blood violently rushed towards his head. He felt like he had been dropped inside a volcano and lava was about to spill out from his insides.  _

_ He took a few shuddering breaths as he reminded himself that there was no possible way the hobbit knew what he was asking, what it meant to ask that. _

_ Thorin debated about what to do. Would it be so terrible to allow Bilbo to touch him that way? He didn’t know the significance and Thorin wouldn’t push any sort of responsibility on him. He just- he just wanted Bilbo to touch him... _

_ “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” Bilbo said after a moment of silence where Thorin hadn’t been able to come up with an appropriate response just yet, eyes downcast and a painfully apologetic half-smile on his face. _

_ Before Thorin could think twice he answered, “I’ll let you if you let me touch your hair.” Thorin closed his eyes slowly and took a deep breath, deep inside his mind Thorin heard himself scream. _

_ “Oh, of course,” Bilbo replied, more animated. “Are you certain? I wouldn't want to impose on you like that. I know dwarves have certain rules about this sort of thing, even if I'm not sure about what those rules entail. I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable.” _

_ “I’m certain.”  _

_ “Very well. In that case...” Bilbo trailed off and took a hesitant step towards Thorin and sat on the lug Thorin had chosen as the perfect place to rest for a moment, their thighs almost touching. Without further ado, Bilbo slowly put both hands of Thorin’s cheeks and leaned in.  _

_ Bilbo's fingers gently caressed Thorin’s whiskers, his eyes keenly focused on his actions. Thorin closed his eyes with a hum, feeling the tension of his body instantly melt away. _

_ “Your beard is softer than I expected, it feels very nice.” _

_ Thorin opened his eyes and found Bilbo’s. Raising a hand he gently pushed a stray curl away from Bilbo’s face and unable to help himself he burrowed his palm in the fluffy mane, carding his fingers through it. _

_ “Your hair is softer. It feels like sheep wool,” Thorin said, voice full of wonder. _

_ Bilbo snorted and let out a chortle that was almost a giggle and said, "Oh, you silly dwarf!" Thorin's heart swelled at the sound. _

_ The texture was completely different from the one dwarven hair had and in the roughness of Thorin’s palms, it felt even softer. _

_ He wouldn’t mind spending his days petting those curls. _

* * *

_ “Thorin!” Bilbo shouted, startling Thorin. He looked back from where the voice had come and saw Bilbo in the opposite direction to where he was heading. “Where are you going?” _

_ “I- I’m not sure. My feet moved on their own,” admitted worriedly Thorin. _

_ “Blessed Yavanna," he muttered. "Here, take my hand and don’t let go. It might be the forest’s doing.” Bilbo offered his hand and Thorin took it, clasping their hands tightly. _

_ It had already been three days since he had met the hobbit but in the deepness of the forest for Thorin, it felt like a lifetime. As eager as he was to leave the cursed forest Thorin felt slightly depressed when he thought that would mean saying goodbye to Bilbo. _

_ He had just begun knowing the hobbit and it was almost unfair he had to leave already. He wanted to learn more, to listen to Bilbo rant about his relatives and hear him describe the green and lush valleys of the Shire. He wanted to tell Bilbo about himself. _

_ It was odd how comfortable he felt with him and Thorin didn’t even know why that was and realizing it all would be over before Thorin even had the chance to find out felt like another betrayal from the universe.  _

* * *

_ They stood the edge of the forest, both unwilling to say their goodbyes. It had been four days and yet for Thorin, it had felt like a lifetime. He barely knew him but Bilbo attracted him in a way no one had ever had. Thorin wouldn’t be foolish enough to claim it was love, that would plain stupid but there was something there, the possibility of something... _

_ Carefully Thorin pried his main dagger out of his belt — the one he had used to cut through the bushes — and offered it to Bilbo.  _

_ “For you,” he said, unable to phrase the words he really wanted to say. _

_ “I- Oh, Thorin. I don’t need anything, it was a pleasure to accompany you here.” _

_ “It’s a gift, I want you to have it. Please,” Thorin pleaded as he took one of Bilbo's hands between his own and placed the dagger on it. _

_ “I- Alright,” Bilbo finally agreed, taking the dagger and pulling it towards his chest. _

_ Thorin helped him tie it around his own belt and when he was about to draw back he felt a smaller hand on his cheek. A soft one, free from the roughness Thorin’s own had. _

_ “Will I- will I see you again?” He asked hesitantly and Thorin’s breath faltered. _

_ Thorin brought his other hand towards his face and shamelessly relished on the feel of Bilbo brushing his fingers against his beard. He met Bilbo’s eyes and answered, more certain than he had ever been, “We will, we’ll meet again. That, I can promise you,” and before he could think about it twice Thorin bent down and carefully pressed a chaste kiss on Bilbo’s plush lips.  _

_ He drew back reluctantly and pressed their foreheads together. Bilbo’s eyes were slightly misty and he knew his own were much the same. “Do not forget me, please.” _

_ Bilbo chuckled sadly and said, “that would never happen.” _

* * *

Thorin sighed, opening his eyes. Of course, that hadn’t been the case, in the end, Bilbo had forgotten about him.

It hurt, deeply, but Thorin had spent almost the entire night before debating about what to do next and had decided to push his bitterness and pain aside. Their meeting might not have meant the same for Bilbo but that didn’t mean the way he had acted around Thorin had been insincere. Three years was a long time and Thorin couldn’t truly blame Bilbo for forgetting him when they had only spent four days together.

Rather, he was the strange one for holding so long onto that memory, unable to forget the lovely hobbit and his bright curls and even brighter smile.

In a way, Thorin selfishly thought, it was best that Bilbo had forgotten him. Even if all those moments and that kiss they had shared had been forgotten, at least Thorin wouldn’t have to lie to Bilbo about being a king anymore and be upfront with it and try to win his heart again, be it as a friend or something more. Thorin hoped that, with time, the later might be more than a wistful dream.

Thorin recounted the rest of the day and smiled at the memory of Biblo interacting with the ravens. Further proof that he had an honest heart and gentle nature. Ravens were picky creatures and while terribly loyal to certain people they didn't take well to strangers so one declaring to have a hobbit of all beings added to their flock — in the way Megrna had done — was completely unheard of. 

He was aware Bilbo felt out of place and most likely thought he was being judged and not welcomed in Ered Luin, and while that was true to a certain degree it wasn't as bad as the hobbit probably feared. Everyone had their eyes focused on Bilbo, not sure how to act around him, too used to being scorned and dismissed for the simple fact of being a dwarf. 

Almost none of the habitants had ever interacted with hobbits so it was understandable they were wary of him, Thorin himself had been the same once. But he was certain everyone would learn to accept Bilbo, their presence in the market the first step.

Thorin sighed, finally calm enough, and as he got ready to go to the kitchens to fetch something to eat he heard a knock on his door. He opened it and found Dwalin and Balin on the other side, a tray of food on each of their hands.

“Did the hobbit finally punch ye?” Dwalin asked tauntingly, as he smirked when he eyed Thorin’s nose.

“He actually hit me with a door but close enough,” Thorin grunted, not willing to take the bait, still in high spirits from his meeting with Bilbo. He opened the door and let them get inside.

They entered inside and unceremoniously Balin asked, “so he’s the one, isn’t he?”

Thorin almost choked on his spit, suddenly feeling like he was a pebble again and his mother had caught him red-handed deep in the cookie jar in the middle of the night.

“I don’t know whatever you mean,” Thorin lied uselessly, trying to find any sort of composure in front of his oldest friends.

“That reaction was answer enough,” Dwalin said with a snort and half a smirk. "Everyone has seen ye around the market with him. It's obvious ye like him."

Thorin glared at him and mourned the fact that neither of the brothers was affected by it anymore.

"We bumped into little Bartur, he wouldn't stop talking about Bilbo. Apparently, he bumped into him and he's telling everyone who will listen about it," Balin chimed in, an amused glint on his eyes.

So it had been Bartur the child Bilbo had been talking about. Thorin had wondered. Since there were so little births Thorin knew almost every young child that had been born since he became king, precious as they were.

Thorin hummed and, deciding to ignore them he picked up his bowl of stew and began eating it, pretending the nosy dwarves weren’t there. He refused to talk about this with them.

The sons of Fundin, for their part, let him. They all ate in silence and for a moment Thorin genuinely thought they would drop the topic at hand.

He should have known better.

Well after they had finished their meal, just when Thorin was about to usher them to leave, Balin spoke again.

“That time, three years ago, if I remember correctly,” Balin began, innocently. “You came back after being lost in the forest and told us you had met someone, someone who had changed your life, but never once you talked about that person in detail, simply saying you mourned having parted ways so soon.” Balin gave Thorin a pointed glance and Thorin grit his teeth, as he gave him a dirty look.

He, of all people, should know better than to butt in business that didn’t concern him.

“In all those years ye have never forgotten them-” Dwalin said and when Thorin was about to object he glared at Thorin and exclaimed, almost accusingly, “I have seen ye! You get that woozy look on yer face and get lost all inside yer head. You can’t fool me, Thorin. I’ve known you since we were babes.”

“Laddie, we just want to help,” Balin intervened and just like that all the fight in Thorin went away.

Thorin took a deep breath and exhaled loudly as he sunk deeper in the cushions of the sofa, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

“It was Bilbo. He’s the one I met so long ago,” Thorin begrudgingly admitted, “but he’s forgotten me,” he added in a quiet voice, almost whispering. Admitting it aloud for the first time made Thorin's chest sting, saying it like that made it real, it wasn’t a dream, Bilbo had truly forgotten about him.

“Are you certain?” Asked Balin, a deep frown on his face.

“Aye, how could I not? He’s given me no reason to think otherwise,” Thorin said.

“No wonder you looked so pissed back in the first meeting, it was as if Thranduil and the worm had personally come to greet you,” Dwalin said with a snort.

Thorin frowned, “I was clouded by anger and disappointment, but I made sure to apologize for that. Bilbo might not remember me but he’s still the same hobbit I once met, and more importantly, he’s still the ambassador of the Shire. I don’t plan to allow my personal issues to interfere with what could very well decide the future of our city,” he explained, gravely, carding a hand through his long hair.

Dwalin hummed. “Do you plan to do anything now that he’s here?” He asked.

Thorin nodded once. “I would like to earn his friendship once again, more than that I can only hope for.”

“Do you best, laddie, but be careful, for all of our sakes. It’s not just your heart that lays at peril if things go awry,” Balin warned with a sigh.

“Aye, but enough of that. How did you two meet? Now that I know who he is ye don’t need to hide anything. I want to know what he did to make you pine after him for three years,” Dwalin said an eager glint on his eyes and Thorin, once again, was glad for his bluntness and grateful to have him as his friend.

It was odd talking about Bilbo with other people when he had held all those memories so close to his heart, for only him to see.

Thorin wasn’t entirely sure why he had hidden it from them, it might have been that at the time there was much tension between dwarves and other races. His place as king was still tremulous at best and he didn’t doubt anyone would have tried to do anything to hurt him, even going all the way to The Shire to hunt an innocent hobbit. Or perhaps he had simply wanted to avoid the taunting and mockery it would be bestowed upon him when he told them that a bush had almost taken him as ransom. 

That might still happen now but at least Dís wasn’t here to add to the taunting. Thorin didn’t doubt it would reach her ears at some point, even all the way to the Iron Hills. 

She was horrible like that.

So Thorin took a deep breath and with a faint smile, he told them about what had transpired in that cursed forest and, for the first time, he had someone else to laugh at the happy memories he had of Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT (27/10/2020): This story is officially on a short hiatus. Life has gotten incredibly hectic between covid, my exams and my upcoming internship at the hospital so I'm super sorry but I'm not going to be able to update for a while. I'm going to keep working on the story, and once I have written at least two-thirds of the story, I'll begin posting again. I know it's not good news but atm it's impossible for me to keep a solid updating schedule and I don't want to give you crappy chapters. Hope you guys understand. I might post one or two other fic in the meanwhile so stay tuned!
> 
> I always forget to add this but you can also find me on tumblr as [@x-kytanna-x](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/x-kytanna-x). You can find updates about this fic there and a snippet or two about upcoming fics.


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